DADDY  JAKE 
THE   RUNAWAY 


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DADDY  JAKE 
THE    RUNAWAY 


AND   SHORT  STORIES 
TOLD     AFTER     DARK 


BY 


"UNCLE  REMUS" 

JOEL   CHANDLER    HARRIS 


NEW  YORK 

THE   CENTURY  CO. 

1896 


Copyright,  1889,  by 
Joel  Chandler  Harris. 


Tin  st  vinni  priu,  n:w  YORK. 


9££ 


CONTENTS 


Page 


Daddy  Jake,  the  Runaway  : 

Chapter  I i 

II 28 

"         HI 53 

How  a  Witch  was  Caught 83 

The  Little  Boy  and  his  Dogs 93 

How  Black  Snake  Caught  the  Wolf 108 

Why  the  Guineas  Stay  Awake 118 

How  the  Terrapin  was  Taught  to  Fly 123 

The  Creature  with  no  Claws .    .  134 

Uncle  Remus's  Wonder  Story 139 

The  Rattlesnake  and  the  Polecat 149 

How  the  Birds  Talk 152 

The  Foolish  Woman 165 

The  Adventures  of  Simon  and  Susanna 171 

Brother  Rabbit  and  the  Gingercakes 183 

Brother  Rabbit's  Courtship 188 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Judge  Rabbit  and  the  Fat  Man    ....    Frontispiece 
"  The  Youngsters  Saw  Daddy  Jake,  and  Went  Run- 
ning After  Him." 9 

"The  Field-hands  were  Singing  as  they   Picked 

the  Opening  Cotton." 19 

"  '  Maybe  he  Knows  Where  Daddy  Jake  is,'  said 

Lillian." 25 

"The  Field-hands  Discussed  the  Matter."    ...  29 

The  Miller  and  his  Children 41 

"An'  Ole  Man  Jake,  he  dar  too." 49 

"  Lucien  Saw  Him,  and  Rushed  Toward  Him."  .    .  57 

Poor  Old  Sue  Tells  her  Story      63 

"Mr.  Rabbit  Squall  Out,  'Coon   Dead!'"  ....  71 

"  Den  de  Frogs  dey  Went  to  Work  Sho  Nuff."  .  75 
"The  Old  Negro  Put  his  Hands  to  his  Mouth 

and  Called." 79 

"She   Stood   dar   a   Minit,   dat    Ole    Black   Cat 

Did." 87 

"'All  Ready,  now.     Stick  yo'  Head  In.'"  ....  105 
"  En  Eve'y  Time  He  Swung  Mr.  Black  Snake  Tuck 

'n  Lash  Tm  wid  he  Tail." 115 

"'Brer  Tarrypin,  How  You  Feel?'" 127 

Billy  Big-Eye  and  Tommy  Long-Wing 159 

Simon  Shakes  the  Pebbles 175 


DADDY  JAKE 
THE   RUNAWAY 


DADDY  JAKE,  THE  RUNAWAY 


Chapter  I 

ONE  fine  day  in  September,,  in  the  year  1863, 
there  was  quite  an  uproar  on  the  Gaston 
plantation,  in  Putnam  County,  in  the  State  of 
Georgia.  Uncle  Jake,  the  carriage-driver,  was 
missing.  He  was  more  than  fifty  years  old,  and 
it  was  the  first  time  he  had  been  missing  since 
his  mistress  had  been  big  enough  to  call  him. 
But  he  was  missing  now.  Here  was  his  mistress 
waiting  to  order  the  carriage  ;  here  was  his  master 
fretting  and  fuming ;  and  here  were  the  two  little 
children,  Lucien  and  Lillian,  crying  because  they 
did  n't  know  where  Uncle  Jake  was — "  Daddy 
Jake,"  who  had  heretofore  seemed  always  to  be 
within  sound  of  their  voices,  ready  and  anxious 
to  amuse  them  in  any  and  every  way. 

Then  came  the  news  that  Daddy  Jake  had  ac- 
tually run  away.     This  was,  indeed,  astounding 


2  I>.\l)I)Y    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

rieWS,  biicl  although  it  was  brought  by  the  son  of 
the  overseer,  none  of  the  Gastons  would  believe 
it,  ]<ast  of  all  Lucien  and  Lillian.  Thesonofthe 
overseer  also  brought  the  further  information  that 
Daddy  Jake  who  had  never  had  an  angry  word 
for  anybody,  had  struck  the  overseer  across  the 
head  with  a  hoe-handle,  and  had  then  taken  to 
the  woods.  Dr.  Gaston  was  very  angry,  indeed, 
and  lie  told  the  overseer's  son  that  if  anybody 
was  to  blame  it  was  his  father.  Mrs.  Gaston, 
with  her  eyes  lull  of  tears,  agreed  with  her  hus- 
band, and  Lucien  and  Lillian,  when  they  found 
that  I  Kiddy  Jake  was  really  gone,  refused  to  be 
comforted.  Ever)  body  seemed  to  be  dazed.  As 
it  was  Saturday,  and  Saturday  was  a  holiday,  the 
negroes  stood  around  their  quarters  in  little  groups 
discussing  the  wonderful  event.  Some  of  them 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  if  1  )addy  Jake  had  taken 
to  the  woods  it  was  time  for  the  rest  of  them  to 
follow  suit  ;  but  this  proposition  was  hooted  down 
by  die  more  sensible  among  them. 

Nevertheless,  the  excitement  on  the  Gaston 
plantation  ran  very  high  when  it  was  discovered 
that  a  negro  so  trusted  and  so  trustworthy  as 
Daddy  Jake  had  actually  run  away;  and  it  was 
not  until  all  the  farts  were  known  that  the  other 
became  reconciled  to  Daddy  Jake's  ab- 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  3 

sence.  What  were  the  facts  ?  They  were  very 
simple,  indeed ;  and  yet,  many  lads  and  lasses 
who  read  this  may  fail  to  fully  comprehend  them. 
In  the  first  place,  the  year  in  which  Daddy 
Jake  became  a  fugitive  was  the  year  1863,  and 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  doubt  and  confusion  in 
the  South  at  that  time.  The  Conscription  Act 
and  the  Impressment  Law  were  in  force.  Under 
the  one,  nearly  all  the  able-bodied  men  and  boys 
were  drafted  into  the  army ;  and  under  the  other, 
all  the  corn  and  hay  and  horses  that  the  Confed- 
eracy needed  were  pressed  into  service.  This 
state  of  things  came  near  causing  a  revolt  in  some 
of  the  States,  especially  in  Georgia,  where  the  laws 
seemed  to  bear  most  heavily.  Something  of  this 
is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  that  period,  but 
nothing  approaching  the  real  facts  has  ever  been 
published.  After  the  Conscription  Act  was  passed 
the  planters  were  compelled  to  accept  the  services 
of  such  overseers  as  they  could  get,  and  the  one 
whom  Dr.  Gaston  had  employed  lacked  both  ex- 
perience and  discretion.  He  had  never  been 
trained  to  the  business.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
shoemaker,  and  he  became  an  overseer  merely 
to  keep  out  of  the  army.  A  majority  of  those 
who  made  overseeing  their  business  had  gone  to 
the  war  either  as  volunteers  or  substitutes,  and 


4  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

very  few  men  capable  of  taking  charge  of  a  large 
plantation  were  left  behind. 

At  the  same  time  overseers  were  a  necessity 
on  some  of  the  plantations.  Many  of  the  plant- 
ers were  either  lawyers  or  doctors,  and  these,  if 
they  had  any  practice  at  all,  were  compelled  to 
leave  their  farming  interests  to  the  care  of  agents; 
there  were  other  planters  who  had  been  reared 
in  the  belief  that  an  overseer  was  necessary  on  a 
large  plantation  ;  so  that,  for  one  cause  and  an- 
other, the  overseer  class  was  a  pretty  large  one. 
It  was  a  very  respectable  class,  too;  for,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  no  person  who  was  not 
known  to  be  trustworthy  would  be  permitted  to 
tak<-  charge  of  the  interests  of  a  plantation,  for 
these  were  as  varied  and  as  important  as  those 
of  any  other  business. 

But  in  [863  it  was  a  very  hard  matter  to  get  a 
trustworthy  overseer;  and  Dr.  Gaston,  having  a 
large  practice  as  a  physician,  had  hired  the  first 
pci-son  who  applied  for  the  place,  without  waiting 
to  make  any  inquiries  about  either  his  knowledge 
or  his  character;  and  it  turned  out  that  his  over- 
seer was  not  only  utterly  incompetent,  but  that 
he  was  something  of  a  rowdy  besides.  An  expe- 
rienced overseer  would  have  known  that  he  was 
employed,  not  to  exercise  control  over  the  house- 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  5 

servants,  but  to  look  after  the  farm-hands ;  but 
the  new  man  began  business  by  ordering  Daddy 
Jake  to  do  various  things  that  were  not  in  the 
line  of  his  duty.  Naturally,  the  old  man,  who 
was  something  of  a  boss  himself,  resented  this 
sort  of  interference.  A  great  many  persons  were 
of  the  opinion  that  he  had  been  spoiled  by 
kind  treatment ;  but  this  is  doubtful.  He  had 
been  raised  with  the  white  people  from  a  little 
child,  and  he  was  as  proud  in  his  way  as  he  was 
faithful  in  all  ways.  Under  the  circumstances, 
Daddy  Jake  did  what  other  confidential  servants 
would  have  done  ;  he  ignored  the  commands  of 
the  new  overseer,  and  went  about  his  business  as 
usual.  This  led  to  a  quarrel  —  the  overseer  do- 
ing most  of  the  quarreling.  Daddy  Jake  was  on 
his  dignity,  and  the  overseer  was  angry.  Finally, 
in  his  fury,  he  struck  the  old  negro  with  a  strap 
which  he  was  carrying  across  his  shoulders.  The 
blow  was  a  stinging  one,  and  it  was  delivered 
full  in  Uncle  Jake's  face.  For  a  moment  the  old 
negro  was  astonished.  Then  he  became  furious. 
Seizing  an  ax-handle  that  happened  to  be  close 
to  his  hand,  he  brought  it  down  upon  the  head 
of  the  overseer  with  full  force.  There  was  a  tre- 
mendous crash  as  the  blow  fell,  and  the  overseer 
went  down  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  a  pile- 


6  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

driver.  He  gave  an  awful  groan,  and  trembled 
a  little  in  his  limbs,  and  then  lay  perfectly  still. 
Uncle  Jake  was  both  dazed  and  frightened.  He 
would  have  gone  to  his  master,  but  he  remem- 
bered what  he  had  heard  about  the  law.  In  those 
days  a  negro  who  struck  a  white  man  was  tried 
for  his  life,  and  if  his  guilt  could  be  proven,  he 
was  either  branded  with  a  hot  iron  and  sold  to  a 
speculator,  or  he  was  hanged. 

The  certainty  of  these  punishments  had  no 
doubt  been  exaggerated  by  rumor,  but  even  the 
rumor  was  enough  to  frighten  the  negroes. 
Daddy  Jake  looked  at  the  overseer  a  moment, 
and  then  stopped  and  felt  of  him.  He  was  mo- 
tionless and,  apparently,  he  had  ceased  to 
breathe.  Then  the  old  negro  went  to  his  cabin, 
gathered  up  his  blanket  and  clothes,  put  some 
provisions  in  a  little  bag.  and  went  off  into  the 
woods.  1  le  seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry.  He 
walked  with  his  head  bent,  as  if  in  deep  thought. 
1  le  appeared  to  understand  and  appreciate  the  sit- 
uation. A  short  time  ago  he  was  the  happy  and 
trusted  servant  ol  a  master  and  mistress  who  had 
rarel)  given  him  an  unkind  word;  now  he  was  a 
fugitive — a  runaway.  As  he  passed  along  by 
the  garden  palings  he  heard  two  little  children 
playing  and  prattling  on   the  other  side.     They 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  7 

were  talking  about  him.  He  paused  and  lis- 
tened. 

"  Daddy  Jake  likes  me  the  best,"  Lucien  was 
saying,  "  because  he  tells  me  stories." 

"No,"  said  Lillian,  "he  likes  me  the  best, 
'cause  he  tells  me  all  the  stories  and  gives  me 
some  gingercake,  too." 

The  old  negro  paused  and  looked  through  the 
fence  at  the  little  children,  and  then  he  went  on 
his  way.  But  the  youngsters  saw  Daddy  Jake, 
and  went  running  after  him. 

"  Let  me  go,  Uncle  Jake  !  "  cried  Lucien.  "  Le' 
me  go,  too ! "  cried  Lillian.  But  Daddy  Jake 
broke  into  a  run  and  left  the  children  standing  in 
the  garden,  crying. 

It  was  not  very  long  after  this  before  the  whole 
population  knew  that  Daddy  Jake  had  knocked 
the  overseer  down  and  had  taken  to  the  woods. 
In  fact,  it  was  only  a  few  minutes,  for  some  of 
the  other  negroes  had  seen  him  strike  the  overseer 
and  had  seen  the  overseer  fall,  and  they  lost  no 
time  in  raising  the  alarm.  Fortunately  the  over- 
seer was  not  seriously  hurt.  He  had  received  a 
blow  severe  enough  to  render  him  unconscious 
for  a  few  minutes, — but  this  was  all ;  and  he  was 
soon  able  to  describe  the  fracas  to  Dr.  Gaston, 
which  he  did  with  considerable  animation. 


8  DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

"And  who  told  you  to  order  Jake  around?" 
the  doctor  asked. 

11  Well,  sir,  I  just  thought  I  had  charge  of  the 
whole  crowd." 

"  You  were  very  much  mistaken,  then,"  said 
Dactor  Gaston,  sharply;  "  and  if  I  had  seen  you 
strike  [ake  with  your  strap,  I  should  have  been 
tempted  to  take  my  buggy-whip  and  give  you  a 
dose  of  your  own  medicine." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Doctor  Gaston  was  very 
angry,  and  he  lost  no  time  in  giving  the  new 
overseer  what  the  negroes  called  his  "walking- 
papers."  He  paid  him  up  and  discharged  him  on 
the  spot,  and  it  was  not  many  days  before  every- 
body on  the  Gaston  plantation  knew  that  the  man 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Conscription  offi- 
cers  <  >l  the  Confederacy,  and  that  he  had  been  sent 
on  to  the  front. 

At  the  same  time,  as  Mrs.  Gaston  herself  re- 
marked, this  fact,  however  gratifying  it  might  be, 
did  not  bring  Daddy  Jake  back.  He  was  gone, 
and  his  absence  caused  a  great  deal  of  trouble  on 
the  plantation.  It  was  found  that  half-a-dozen 
negroes  had  to  be  detailed  to  do  the  work  which 
h<-  had  voluntarily  taken  upon  himself — one  to 
attend  to  the  carriage-horses,  another  to  look  af- 
ter  th<-  cows,  another  to  feed  the  hogs  and  sheep, 


"  ^*&& 


"THE    YOUNGSTERS    SAW    DADDY   JAKE,    AND    WENT    RUNNING 
AFTER    HIM." 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  n 

and  still  others  to  look  after  the  thousand  and  one 
little  things  to  be  done  about  the  "  big  house." 
But  not  one  of  them,  nor  all  of  them,  filled  Daddy 
Jake's  place. 

Many  and  many  a  time  Doctor  Gaston  walked 
up  and  down  the  veranda  wondering  where  the 
old  negro  was,  and  Mrs.  Gaston,  sitting  in  her 
rocking-chair,  looked  down  the  avenue  day  after 
day,  half  expecting  to  see  Daddy  Jake  make  his 
appearance,  hat  in  hand  and  with  a  broad  grin  on 
his  face.  Some  of  the  neighbors,  hearing  that 
Uncle  Jake  had  become  a  fugitive,  wanted  to  get 
Bill  Locke's  "  track-dogs  "  and  run  him  down,  but 
Doctor  Gaston  and  his  wife  would  not  hear  to 
this.  They  said  that  the  old  negro  was  n't  used 
to  staying  in  the  woods,  and  that  it  would  n't  be 
long  before  he  would  come  back  home. 

Doctor  Gaston,  although  he  was  much  troubled, 
looked  at  the  matter  from  a  man's  point  of  view. 
Here  was  Daddy  Jake's  home ;  if  he  chose  to 
come  back,  well  and  good ;  if  he  did  n't,  why,  it 
could  n't  be  helped,  and  that  was  an  end  of  the 
matter.  But  Mrs.  Gaston  took  a  different  view. 
Daddy  Jake  had  been  raised  with  her  father ;  he 
was  an  old  family  servant ;  he  had  known  and 
loved  her  mother,  who  was  dead ;  he  had  nursed 
Mrs.   Gaston   herself  when   she  was  a  baby ;   in 


12  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

short,  he  was  a  fixture  in  the  lady's  experience, 
and  his  absence  worried  her  not  a  little.  She 
could  not  bear  to  think  that  the  old  negro  was 
out  in  the  woods  without  food  and  without  shel- 
ter. If  there  was  a  thunderstorm  at  night,  as 
there  sometimes  is  in  the  South  during  Septem- 
ber, she  could  hardly  sleep  for  thinking  about  the 
old  negro. 

Thinking  about  him  led  Mrs.  Gaston  to  talk 
about  him  very  often,  especially  to  Lucien  and 
Lillian,  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  running"  out 
to  the  kitchen  while  Daddy  Jake  was  eating  his 
supper  and  begging  him  to  tell  a  story.  So  far 
as  they  were  concerned,  his  absence  was  a  per- 
sonal loss.  While  Uncle  Jake  was  away  they 
were  not  only  deprived  of  a  most  agreeable  com- 
panion, but  they  could  give  no  excuse  for  not 
going  to  bed.  The)-  had  no  one  to  amuse  them 
after  supper,  and,  as  a  consequence,  their  even- 
ings were  very  dull.  The  youngsters  submitted 
to  this  for  several  days,  expecting  that  Daddy 
Jake  would  return,  but  in  this  they  were  disap- 
pointed. They  waited  and  waited  for  more  than 
a  \\<-ek,  and  then  they  began  to  show  their  im- 
patience. 

"  I  used  to  be  afraid  <^(  runaways,"  said  Lillian 
One  day,   "but  1  'in  not  afraid  now,  'cause  Daddy 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  13 

Jake  is  a  runaway."  Lillian  was  only  six  years 
old,  but  she  had  her  own  way  of  looking  at 
things. 

"  Pshaw  !"  exclaimed  Lucien,  who  was  nine, 
and  very  robust  for  his  age  ;  "I  never  was  afraid 
of  runaways.  I  know  mighty  well  they  would  n't 
hurt  me.  There  was  old  Uncle  Fed  ;  he  was  a 
runaway  when  Papa  bought  him.  Would  he 
hurt  anybody  ?  " 

"  But  there  might  be  some  bad  ones,"  said  Lil- 
lian, "  and  you  know  Lucinda  says  Uncle  Fed  is  a 
real,  sure-enough  witch." 

"  Lucinda ! "  exclaimed  Lucien,  scornfully. 
"What  does  Lucinda  know  about  witches?  If 
one  was  to  be  seen  she  would  n't  stick  her  head 
out  of  the  door  to  see  it.  She  'd  be  scared  to 
death." 

"Yes,  and  so  would  anybody,"  said  Lillian, 
with  an  air  of  conviction.      "  I  know  I  would." 

"  Well,  of  course, —  a  little  girl,"  explained  Lu- 
cien. "Any  little  girl  would  be  afraid  of  a  witch, 
but  a  great  big  double-fisted  woman  like  Lucinda 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself  to  be  afraid  of 
witches,  and  that,  too,  when  everybody  knows 
there  are  n't  any  witches  at  all,  except  in  the 
stories." 

"  Well,  I    heard    Daddy  Jake  telling   about  a 


14  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

witch  that  turned  herself  into  a  black  cat,  and 
then  into  a  big  black  wolf,"  said  Lillian. 

"  Oh,  that  was  in  old  times/'  said  Lucien, 
"  when  the  animals  used  to  talk  and  go  on  like 
people.  But  you  never  heard  Daddy  Jake  say 
he  saw  a  witch, —  now,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lillian,  somewhat  doubtfully;  "but 
I  heard  him  talking  about  them.  I  hope  no  witch 
will  catch  Daddy  Jake." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  exclaimed  Lucien.  "  Daddy  Jake 
carried  his  rabbit-foot  with  him,  and  you  know 
no  witch  can  bother  him  as  long  as  he  has  his 
rabbit-foot." 

"  Well,"  said  Lillian,  solemnly,  "  if  he  's  got  his 
rabbit-foot  and  can  keep  off  the  witches  all  night, 
lie  won't  come  back  any  more." 

"  lint  he  must  come,"  said  Lucien.  "  I  'm  go- 
ing after  him.  I  'm  going  down  to  the  landing 
to-morrow,  and  1  11  take  the  boat  and  go  down 
the  river  and  bring  him  back." 

"Oh,  may  I  go,  too?"  asked  Lillian. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucien,  loftily,  "if  you  '11  help  me 
i  >ine  things  out  of  the  house  and  not  say  any- 
thing about  what  we  are  going  to  do." 

Lillian  was  only  too  glad  to  pledge  herself  to 
secrecy,  and  the  next  day  found  the  two  children 
busily  preparing  for  their  journey  in  search  of 
1  >addy  Jake. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  15 

The  Gaston  plantation  lay  along  the  Oconee 
River  in  Putnam  County,  not  far  from  Roach's 
Ferry.  In  fact,  it  lay  on  both  sides  of  the  river, 
and,  as  the  only  method  of  communication  was 
by  means  of  a  bateau,  nearly  everybody  on  the 
plantation  knew  how  to  manage  the  boat.  There 
was  not  an  hour  during  the  day  that  the  bateau 
was  not  in  use.  Lucien  and  Lillian  had  been 
carried  across  hundreds  of  times,  and  they  were 
as  much  at  home  in  the  boat  as  they  were  in  a 
buggy.  Lucien  was  too  young  to  row,  but  he 
knew  how  to  guide  the  bateau  with  a  paddle 
while  others  used  the  oars. 

This  fact  gave  him  confidence,  and  the  result 
was  that  the  two  children  quietly  made  their  ar- 
rangements to  go  in  search  of  Daddy  Jake. 
Lucien  was  the  "provider,"  as  he  said,  and 
Lillian  helped  him  to  carry  the  things  to  the 
boat.  They  got  some  meal-sacks,  two  old  quilts, 
and  a  good  supply  of  biscuits  and  meat.  No- 
body meddled  with  them,  for  nobody  knew  what 
their  plans  were,  but  some  of  the  negroes  re- 
marked that  they  were  not  only  unusually  quiet, 
but  very  busy  —  a  state  of  things  that  is  looked 
upon  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  ways 
of  children  as  a  very  bad  sign,  indeed. 

The  two  youngsters  worked  pretty  much  all 
day,  and  they  worked  hard  ;   so  that  when  night 


16  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

came  they  were  both  tired  and  sleepy.  They 
were  tired  and  sleep)-,  but  they  managed  to 
cover  their  supplies  with  the  meal-sacks,  and  the 
next  morning  they  were  up  bright  and  early. 
They  were  up  so  early,  indeed,  that  they  thought 
it  was  a  very  long"  time  until  breakfast  was  ready; 
and,  at  last,  when  the  bell  rang,  they  hurried  to  the 
table  and  ate  ravenously,  as  became  two  travelers 
about  to  set  out  on  a  voyage  of  adventure. 

It  was  all  they  could  do  to  keep  their  scheme 
from  their  mother.  Once  Lillian  was  on  the 
point  of  asking  her  something  about  it,  but  Lucien 
shook  his  head,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
two  youngsters  embarked  on  their  journey. 
After  seating  Lillian  in  the  bateau,  Lucien  un- 
fastened the  chain  from  the  stake,  threw  it  into 
the  boat,  and  jumped  in  himself.  Then,  as  the 
clumsy  affair  drifted  slowly  with  the  current,  he 
seized  one  of  the  paddles,  placed  the  blade 
against  the  bank,  and  pushed  the  bateau  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  stream. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  a  voyage  of  adventure, 
the  end  of  which  could  not  be  foretold;  but  the 
sun  was  shining  brightly,  the  mocking-birds  were 
singing  in  the  water-oaks,  the  blackbirds  were 
whistling   blithely   in    the  reeds,  and    the   children 

were  light  hearted  and  happy.     They  were;  go- 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  17 

ing  to  find  Daddy  Jake  and  fetch  him  back  home, 
and  not  for  a  moment  did  it  occur  to  them  that 
the  old  negro  might  have  gone  in  a  different  di- 
rection.  It  seemed  somehow  to  those  on  the 
Gaston  plantation  that  whatever  was  good,  or 
great,  or  wonderful  had  its  origin  "down  the 
river."  Rumor  said  that  the  biggest  crops  were 
grown  in  that  direction,  and  that  there  the  ne- 
groes were  happiest.  The  river,  indeed,  seemed 
to  flow  to  some  far-off  country  where  everything 
was  finer  and  more  flourishing.  This  was  the 
idea  of  the  negroes  themselves,  and  it  was  nat- 
ural  that  Lucien  and  Lillian  should  be  impressed 
with  the  same  belief.  So  they  drifted  down  the 
river,  confident  that  they  would  find  Daddy  Jake. 
They  had  no  other  motive — no  other  thought. 
They  took  no  account  of  the  hardships  of  a  voy- 
age such  as  they  had  embarked  on. 

Lazily,  almost  reluctantly  as  it  seemed,  the 
boat  floated  down  the  stream.  At  first,  Lucien 
was  inclined  to  use  the  broad  oar,  but  it  ap- 
peared that  when  he  paddled  on  one  side  the 
clumsy  boat  tried  to  turn  its  head  up  stream  on 
the  other  side,  and  so,  after  a  while,  he  dropped 
the  oar  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

The  September  sun  was  sultry  that  morning, 
but,   obeying  some    impulse  of  the    current,   the 


i8  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

boat  drifted  down  the  river  in  the  shade  of  the 
water-oaks  and  willows  that  lined  the  eastern 
hank.  On  the  western  bank  the  Gaston  planta- 
tion lay,  and  as  the  boat  floated  lazily  along  the 
little  voyagers  could  hear  the  field-hands  singing 
as  they  picked  the  opening  cotton.  The  song 
was  strangely  melodious,  though  the  words  were 
ridiculous. 

My  dog  's  a  'possum  dog, 

Here,  Rattler  !  here  ! 
He  cross  de  creek  upon  a  log, 

Here,  Rattler  J  here/ 

He  run  de  'possum  up  a  tree, 

Here,  Rattler  !  here  ! 
He  good  enough  fer  you  an'  me, 

Here,  Rattler!  here ! 

Kaze  when  it  come  his  fat'nin  time, 

Here,  Rattler!  here! 
De  'possum  cat  de  muscadine, 

Here,  Rattler!   here! 

He  cat  till  lie  kin  skacely  stan', 

Here,  Rattler  /  here  ! 
An'  den  we  bake  him  in  de  pan, 

Here,  Rattler!  here! 


"THE    FIELD-HANDS    WERE    SINGING   AS    THEY    PICKED   THE 
OPENING    COTTON." 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  21 

It  was  to  the  quaint  melody  of  this  song  that 
the  boat  rocked  and  drifted  along.  One  of  the 
negroes  saw  the  children  and  thought  he  knew 
them,  and  he  called  to  them,  but  received  no  re- 
ply ;  and  this  fact  was  so  puzzling  that  he  went 
back  and  told  the  other  negroes  that  there  was 
some  mistake  about  the  children.  "  Ef  dey 'd 'a' 
bin  our  chillun,"  he  said,  "dey  'd  'a'  hollered  back 
at  me,  sho'."  Whereupon  the  field-hands  resumed 
their  work  and  their  song,  and  the  boat,  gliding 
southward  on  the  gently  undulating  current,  was 
soon  lost  to  view. 

To  the  children  it  seemed  to  be  a  very  pleas- 
ant journey.  They  had  no  thought  of  danger. 
The  river  was  their  familiar  friend.  They  had 
crossed  and  recrossed  it  hundreds  of  times.  They 
were  as  contented  in  the  bateau  as  they  would 
have  been  in  their  mother's  room.  The  weather 
was  warm,  but  on  the  river  and  in  the  shade  of 
the  overhanging  trees  the  air  was  cool  and  re- 
freshing. And  after  a  while  the  current  grew 
swifter,  and  the  children,  dipping  their  hands  in 
the  water,  laughed  aloud. 

Once,  indeed,  the  bateau,  in  running  over  along 
stretch  of  shoals,  was  caught  against  a  rock.  An 
ordinary  boat  would  have  foundered,  but  this  boat, 
clumsy  and  deep-set,  merely  obeyed  the  current. 


22  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

It  struck  the  rock,  recoiled,  touched  it  again,  and 
then  slowly  turned  around  and  pursued  its  course 
down  the  stream.  The  shoals  were  noisy  but 
harmless.  The  water  foamed  and  roared  over  the 
rocks,  but  the  current  was  deep  enough  to  carry 
the  bateau  safely  down.  It  was  not  often  that  a 
boat  took  that  course,  but  Lucien  and  Lillian  had 
no  sense  of  fear.  The  roaring  and  foaming  of 
the  water  pleased  them,  and  the  rushing  and  whirl- 
ing of  the  boat,  as  it  went  dashing  down  the  rapids, 
appeared  to  be  only  part  of  a  holiday  frolic.  After 
they  had  passed  the  shoals,  the  current  became 
swifter,  and  the  old  bateau  was  swept  along  at  a 
rapid  rate.  The  trees  on  the  river  bank  seemed 
to  be  running  back  toward  home,  and  the  shadows 
on  the  water  ran  with  them. 

Sometimes  the  boat  swept  through  long 
stretches  of  meadow  and  marsh  lands,  and  then 
the  children  were  delighted  to  see  the  sandpipers 
and  killdees  running  along  the  margin  of  the 
water.  The  swallows,  not  yet  flown  southward, 
skimmed  along  the  river  with  quivering  wing,  and 
the  kingfishers  displayed  their  shining  plumage 
in  tlie  sun.  (  >nce  a  moccasin,  fat  and  rusty,  fright- 
ened by  tlie  unexpected  appearance  of  the  young 
voyagers,  dropped  into  the  boat;  but,  before  Lu- 

cien  could  strike  him  with   the  unwieldy  oar,  he 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  23 

tumbled  overboard  and  disappeared.  Then  the 
youngsters  ate  their  dinner.  It  was  a  very  dry 
dinner  ;  but  they  ate  it  with  a  relish.  The  crows, 
flying  lazily  over,  regarded  them  curiously. 

"  I  reckon  they  want  some,"  said  Lucien. 

"Well,  they  can't  get  mine,"  said  Lillian,  "'cause 
\  jest  about  got  enough  for  myself." 

They  passed  a  white  man  who  was  sitting  on 
the  river  bank,  with  his  coat  off,  fishing. 

"  Where  under  the  sun  did  you  chaps  come 
from  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Up  the  river,"  replied  Lucien. 

"  Where  in  the  nation  are  you  going?" 

"  Down  the  river." 

"Maybe  he  knows  where  Daddy  Jake  is,"  said 
Lillian.      "  Ask  him." 

"Why,  he  would  n't  know  Daddy  Jake  from  a 
side  of  sole  leather,"  exclaimed  Lucien. 

By  this  time  the  boat  had  drifted  around  a  bend 
in  the  river.  The  man  on  the  bank  took  off  his 
hat  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  rubbed  his 
head  with  the  other  fingers,  drove  away  a  swarm 
of  mosquitoes,  and  muttered,  "  Well,  I  '11  be 
switched  !  "     Then  he  went  on  with  his  fishing. 

Meanwhile  the  boat  drifted  steadily  with  the 
current,  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  the  children 
that  the  boat  stood  still,  while  the  banks,  the  trees, 


24  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

and  the  fields  moved  by  them  like  a  double  pano- 
rama. Queer-looking  little  birds  peeped  at  them 
from  the  bushes ;  fox-squirrels  chattered  at  them 
from  the  trees  ;  green  frogs  greeted  them  by  plung- 
ing into  the  water  with  a  squeak;  turtles  slid  noise- 
lessly off  the  banks  at  their  approach  ;  a  red  fox 
that  had  come  to  the  river  to  drink  disappeared  like 
a  shadow  before  the  sun  ;  and  once  a  great  white 
crane  rose  in  the  air,  flapping  his  wings  heavily. 

Altogether  it  was  a  very  jolly  journey,  but  after 
a  while  Lillian  began  to  get  restless. 

11  Do  you  reckon  Daddy  Jake  will  be  in  the 
river  when  we  find  him  ? "  she  asked. 

Lucien  himself  was  becoming  somewhat  tired, 
but  he  was  resolved  to  go  right  on.  Indeed,  he 
could  not  do  otherwise. 

"  Why,  who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing?  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  What  would  Daddy  Jake  be  doing 
in  the  water  ?  " 

"  Well,  how  are  we's  to  find  him  ?  " 

-Oh,  we  '11  find  him." 

"  I  Wit  1  want  to  find  him  right  now,"  said  Lillian, 
"and  1  want  to  see  Mamma,  and  Papa,  and  my 
dollies." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucien  with  unconscious  humor, 
"  it  you  don't  want  to  go,  you  can  get  out  and 
walk  back  home."      At  this  Lillian  began  to  cry. 

"  Well,"  said  Lucien,  "  if  Daddy  Jake  was  over 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  27 

there  in  the  bushes  and  was  to  see  you  crying  be- 
cause you  did  n't  want  to  go  and  find  him,  he  'd 
run  off  into  the  woods  and  nobody  would  see  him 
any  more." 

Lillian  stopped  crying  at  once,  and,  as  the  after- 
noon wore  on,  both  children  grew  more  cheerful ; 
and  even  when  twilight  came,  and  after  it  the 
darkness,  they  were  not  very  much  afraid.  The 
loneliness  —  the  sighing  of  the  wind  through  the 
trees,  the  rippling  of  the  water  against  the  sides 
of  the  boat,  the  hooting  of  the  big  swamp-owl,  the 
cry  of  the  whippoorwill,  and  the  answer  of  its 
cousin,  the  chuck -will's -widow  —  all  these  things 
would  have  awed  and  frightened  the  children.  But, 
shining  steadily  in  the  evening  sky,  they  saw  the 
star  they  always  watched  at  home.  It  seemed  to 
be  brighter  than  ever,  this  familiar  star,  and  they 
hailed  it  as  a  friend  and  fellow-traveler.  They 
felt  that  home  could  n't  be  so  far  away,  for  the  star 
shone  in  its  accustomed  place,  and  this  was  a 
great  comfort. 

After  a  while  the  night  grew  chilly,  and  then 
Lucien  and  Lillian  wrapped  their  quilts  about 
them  and  cuddled  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
Thousands  of  stars  shone  overhead,  and  it  seemed 
to  the  children  that  the  old  bateau,  growing  tired 
of  its  journey,  had  stopped  to  rest ;  but  it  con- 
tinued to  drift  clown  the  river. 


Chapter  II 

YOU  may  be  sure  there  was  trouble  on  the 
Gaston  place  when  night  came  and  the  chil- 
dren did  not  return.  They  were  missed  at  din- 
ner-time ;  but  it  frequently  happened  that  they 
went  off  with  some  of  the  plantation  wagons,  or 
with  some  of  the  field-hands,  and  so  nothing  was 
thought  of  their  absence  at  noon  ;  but  when  night 
fell  and  all  the  negroes  had  returned  from  their 
work,  and  there  was  still  no  sign  of  the  children, 
there  was  consternation  in  the  big  house  and 
trouble  all  over  the  plantation.  The  field-hands, 
returned  from  their  work,  discussed  the  matter 
at  the  doors  of  their  cabins  and  manifested  con- 
siderable anxiety. 

At  first  the  house-servants  were  sent  scurrying 
about  the  place  hunting  lor  tin-  truants.  Then 
other    negroes    were    pressed    into    service,    until, 

finally,  every  negro  on  the  place  was  engaged  in 
the  search,  and  torches  could  be  seen  bobbing 
up  and  down  in  all  parts  of  the  plantation.      The 

28 


THE    FIELD-HANDS    DISCUSSED    THE    MATTER. 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  31 

negroes  called  and  called,  filling"  the  air  with 
their  musical  halloos,  but  there  was  no  reply  save 
from  the  startled  birds,  or  from  the  dogs,  who 
seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  everybody  was 
engaged  in  a  grand  'possum  hunt,  and  added  the 
strength  of  their  own  voices  to  the  general 
clamor. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  Mrs.  Gaston  was 
pacing  up  and  down  the  long  veranda  wringing 
her  hands  in  an  agony  of  grief.  There  was  but 
one  thought  in  her  mind  —  the  river,  the  river! 
Her  husband  in  the  midst  of  his  own  grief  tried 
to  console  her,  but  he  could  not.  He  had  almost 
as  much  as  he  could  do  to  control  himself,  and 
there  was  in  his  own  mind  —  the  river  ! 

The  search  on  the  plantation  and  in  its  vicinity 
went  on  until  nearly  nine  o'clock.  About  that 
time  Big  Sam,  one  of  the  plough-hands,  who 
was  also  a  famous  fisherman,  came  running  to 
the  house  with  a  frightened  face. 

"  Marster,"  he  exclaimed,  "  de  boat  gone  —  she 
done  gone  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gaston  — 
"  the  river,  the  river  !  " 

"Well !  "  said  Doctor  Gaston,  "  the  boat  must 
be  found.     Blow  the  horn  !  " 

Bie  Sam  seized  the  dinner-horn   and   blew  a 


32  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

blast  that  startled  the  echoes  for  miles  around. 
The  negroes  understood  this  to  be  a  signal  to 
return,  and  most  of  them  thought  that  the  children 
had  been  found,  so  they  came  back  laughing  and 
singing,  and  went  to  the  big  house  to  see  the 
children. 

"  \\  h'abouts  you  fine  urn,  marster  ?  "  asked  the 
foreman. 

"They  have  n't  been  found,  Jim,"  said  Dr. 
Gaston.  "  Big  Sam  says  that  the  boat  is  gone 
from  the  landing,  and  that  boat  must  be  found 
to-night." 

11  Marster,"  said  a  negro,  coming  forward  out 
of  the  group,  "  I  seed  a  boat  gwine  down  stream 
dis  mornin'.      I  wux  way  up  on  de  hill  —  " 

"  And  you  did  n't  come  and  tell  me  ? "  asked 
Dr.  Gaston  in  a  severe  tone. 

"Well,  suh,  I  hollered  at  urn,  an'  dey  ain't  make 
no  answer,  an'  den  it  look  like  ter  me  't  wuz  dem 
two  Ransome  boys.  Hit  tnos'  drap  out'n  my 
min'.  An'  den  you  know,  suh,  our  chillun  ain't 
never  had  no  doin's  like:  dat —  gittin'  in  de  boat 
by  dry  own  alone  se'fan'  sailin'  off  dat  a-way." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Gaston,  "the  boat  must  be 
found.  The  children  arc:  in  it.  Where  can  we 
erel  another  boat  ? " 

o 

"  1  gfot  one,  suh,"  said  Big  Sam. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  33 

"  Me,  too,  marster,"  said  another  negro. 

"  Then  get  them  both,  and  be  quick  about  it !  " 

"Ah-yi,  suh,"  was  the  response,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment the  group  was  scattered,  and  Big  Sam 
could  be  heard  giving  orders  in  a  loud  and  an  en- 
ergetic tone  of  voice.  For  once  he  was  in  his 
element.  He  could  be  foreman  on  the  Oconee 
if  he  could  n't  in  the  cotton-patch.  He  knew 
every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  river  for  miles  up 
and  down  ;  he  had  his  fish-baskets  sunk  in  many 
places,  and  the  overhanging  limbs  of  many  a  tree 
bore  the  marks  of  the  lines  of  his  set-hooks.  So 
for  once  he  appointed  himself  foreman,  and  took 
charge  of  affairs.  He  and  Sandy  Bill  (so-called 
owing  to  the  peculiar  color  of  his  hair)  soon  had 
their  boats  at  the  landing.  The  other  negroes 
were  assembled  there,  and  the  most  of  them  had 
torches. 

"  Marster,"  said  Big  Sam,  "  you  git  in  my  boat, 
an'  let  little  Willyum  come  fer  ter  hoi'  de  torch. 
Jesse,  you  git  in  dar  wid  Sandy  Bill.  Fling  a 
armful  er  light'ood  in  bofe  boats,  boys,  kaze  we 
got  ter  have  a  light,  and  dey  ain't  no  tellin'  how 
fur  we  gwine." 

The  fat  pine  was  thrown  in,  everything  made 
ready,  and  then  the  boats  started.  With  one 
sweep  of  his  broad  paddle,  Big  Sam  sent  his  boat 


34 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 


into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and,  managed  by 
his  strong  and  willing'  arms,  the  clumsy  old  ba- 
teau became  a  thing  of  life.  Sandy  Bill  was  not 
far  behind  him. 

The  negroes  used  only  one  paddle  in  rowing, 
and  each  sat  in  the  stern  of  his  boat,  using  the 


rough  but  effective  oar  first  on  one  side  and  then 

the  other. 

From  a  window,  Mrs.  Gaston  watched  the 
boats  as  they  went  speeding  down  the  river.  By 
her  side  was  Charity,  the  cook. 


DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  35 

"  Is  n't  it  terrible  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  the  boats 
passed  out  of  sight.      "  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

U,T  would  be  mighty  bad,  Mist'iss,  ef  dem 
chillun  wuz  los' ;  but  dey  ain't  no  mo'  los'  dan  I 
is,  an'  I  'm  a-standin'  right  yer  in  de  cornder  by 
dish  yer  cheer." 

"  Not  lost !  Why,  of  course  they  are  lost.  Oh, 
my  darling  little  children  !  " 

"  No  'm,  dey  ain't  no  mo'  los'  dan  you  is.  Dey 
tuck  dat  boat  dis  morn  in',  an'  dey  went  atter  ole 
man  Jake  —  dat  's  whar  dey  er  gone.  Dey  ain't 
gone  nowhar  else.  Dey  er  in  dat  boat  right 
now  ;  dey  may  be  asleep,  but  dey  er  in  dar. 
Ain't  I  year  urn  talkin'  yistiddy  wid  my  own 
years  ?  Ain't  I  year  dat  ar  Marse  Lticien  boy  'low 
ter  he  sister  dat  he  gwine  go  fetch  ole  man  Jake 
back  ?  Ain't  I  miss  a  whole  can  full  er  biscuits  ? 
Ain't  I  miss  two  er  dem  pies  w'at  I  lef '  out  dar 
in  de  kitchen  ?  Ain't  I  miss  a  great  big  hunk  er 
light-bread  ?  An'  who  gwine  dast  ter  take  urn 
less'n  it 's  dem  ar  chillun  ?  Dey  don't  fool  me, 
mon.  I  'm  one  er  de  oldest  rats  in  de  barn  —  I 
is  dat !  " 

Charity's  tone  was  emphatic  and  energetic. 
She  was  so  confident  that  her  theory  was  the 
right  one  that  she  succeeded  in  quieting  her 
mistress    somewhat. 


36  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

11  An'  mo'  'n  dat,"  she  went  on,  seeing"  the 
effect  of  her  remarks,  "clem  chillun  '11  come 
home  yer  all  safe  an'  soun'.  Ef  Marster  an'  dem 
niggers  don't  fetch  urn  back,  dey  '11  come  dey- 
se'f;  an'  old  man  Jake  '11  come  wid  urn.  You 
rain'  wa't  I  tell  you.  You  go  an'  go  ter  bed, 
honey,  an'  don't  pester  yo'se'f  'bout  dem  chillun. 
I  '11  set  up  yer  in  the  cornder  an'  nod,  an'  keep 
my  eyes  on  w'at  's  gwine  on  outside." 

Rut  Mrs.  Gaston  refused  to  go  to  bed.  She 
went  to  the  window,  and  away  down  the  river 
she  could  see  the  red  light  of  the  torches  pro- 
jected against  the  fog.  It  seemed  as  if  it  were 
standing  still,  and  the  mother's  heart  sank  within 
her  at  the  thought.  Perhaps  they  had  found  the 
boat — empty  !  This  and  a  thousand  other  cruel 
suggestions  racked  her  brain. 

But  the  boats  were  not  standing  still  ;  they 
were  moving  down  the  river  as  rapidly  as  four 
of  the  stoutest  arms  to  be  found  in  the  county 
could  drive  them.  The  pine  torches  lit  up  both 
banks  perfectly.  The  negroes  rowed  in  silence 
a  mile  or  more,  when  Big  Sam  said: 

"Marster,  kin  we  sing  some?" 

"  I  )ocs  it  seem  to  be  much  of  a  singing  matter, 
Sam?"   Dr.  Gaston  asked,  grind)-. 

"No,    suh,    it    don't;    but    singin'    he'ps    'long 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  37 

might'ly  w'en  you  workin',  mo'  speshually  ef  you 
er  doin'  de  kind  er  work  whar  you  kin  sorter  hit 
a  lick  wid  the  chune — kinder  keepin'  time,  like." 

Dr.  Gaston  said  nothing,  and  Big  Sam  went  on: 

"'Sides  dat,  Marster,  we-all  useter  sing  ter 
dem  chillun,  an'  dey  knows  our  holler  so  well  dat 
I  boun'  you  ef  dey  wuz  ter  year  us  singin'  an' 
gwine  on,  dey  'd  holler  back." 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Gaston,  struck  by  the  sug- 
gestion, "sing." 

"  Bill,"  said  Big  Sam  to  the  negro  in  the  other 
boat,  "watch  out  for  me;   I  'm  gwine  away." 

"  You  '11  year  fum  me  w'en  you  git  whar  you 
gwine,"  Sandy  Bill  replied. 

With  that  Big  Sam  struck  up  a  song.  His 
voice  was  clear  and  strong,  and  he  sang  with  a 
will. 

Oh.  Miss  Malindy,  you  er  lots  too  sweet  for  me; 

I  cannot  come  to  see  you 
Ontil  my  time  is  free  — 

Oh,  den  I  '11  come  ter  see  you, 
An'  take  you  on  my  knee. 

Oh,  Miss  Malindy,  now  don't  you  go  away ; 

I  cannot  come  to  see  you 
Ontil  some  yuther  day  — 

Oh,  den  I  '11  come  ter  see  you  — 
Oh,  den  I  '11  come  ter  stay. 


38  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

Oh,  Miss  Malindy,  you  is  my  only  one ; 

I  cannot  come  ter  see  you 
Ontil  de  day  is  done  — 

Oh,  den  I  '11  come  ter  see  you, 
And  we  '11  have  a  little  fun. 


Oh,  Miss  Malindy,  my  heart  belongs  ter  you 

I  cannot  come  ter  see  you 
Ontil  my  work  is  thoo'. 

Oh,  den  I  '11  come  ter  see  you, 
I  '11  come  in  my  canoe. 


The  words  of  the  sonir,  foolish  and  trivial  as 
they  are,  do  not  give  the  faintest  idea  of  the 
melody  to  which  it  was  sung.  The  other  ne- 
groes joined  in,  and  the  tremulous  tenor  of  little 
Willyum  was  especially  effective.  The  deep  dark 
woods  on  either  side  seemed  to  catch  up  and 
echo  back  the  plaintive  strain.  To  a  spectator 
on  the  bank,  the  scene  must  have  been  an  un- 
canny one  —  the  song  with  its  heart-breaking- 
melody,  the  glistening  arms  and  faces  of  the  two 
gigantic  blacks,  the  flaring  torches,  flinging  their 
reflections  on  the  swirling  waters,  the  great  gulls 
of  darkness  beyond — all  these  must  have  been 
very  impressive,  but  these  things  did  not  occur 
to  those  in   the  boats,  least  of  all   to   Dr.  Gaston. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  39 

In  the  minds  of  all  there  was  but  one  thought — 
the  children. 

The  negroes  rowed  on,  keeping  time  to  their 
songs.  Their  arms  appeared  to  be  as  tireless  as 
machinery  that  has  the  impulse  of  steam.  Finally 
Big  Sam's  boat  grounded. 

"  Hoi'  on  dar,  Bill!"  he  shouted.  "  Watch 
out !  "  He  took  the  torch  from  the  little  negro 
and  held  it  over  his  head,  and  then  behind  him, 
peering  into  the  darkness  beyond.  Then  he 
laughed. 

"  De  Lord  he'p  my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I 
done  clean  fergit  'bout  Moccasin  Shoals !  Back 
yo'  boat,  Bill."  Suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
he  backed  his  own,  and  they  were  soon  away 
from  the  shoals. 

"Now,  den,"  he  said  to  Bill,  "git  yo'  boat  in 
line  wid  mine,  an'  hoi'  yo'  paddle  in  yo'  lap." 
Then  the  boats,  caught  by  the  current,  moved 
toward  the  shoals,  and  one  after  the  other  touched 
a  rock,  turned  completely  around,  and  went 
safely  down  the  rapids,  just  as  the  children's  boat 
had  done  in  the  forenoon.  Once  over  the  shoals, 
Big  Sam  and  Sandy  Bill  resumed  their  oars  and 
their  songs,  and  sent  the  boats  along  at  a  rapid 
rate. 

A  man,  sitting  on  the  river  bank,  heard  them 


40  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

coming,  and  put  out  his  torch  by  covering  it  with 
sand.  He  crouched  behind  the  bushes  and 
watched  them  go  by.  After  they  had  passed  he 
straightened  himself,  and  remarked : 

"Well,  I  '11  be  switched  !  "  Then  he  relighted 
his  torch,  and  went  on  with  his  fishing.  It  was 
the  same  man  that  Lucien  and  Lillian  had  seen. 

The  boats  went  on  and  on.  With  brief  inter- 
vals the  negroes  rowed  all  night  long,  but  Dr. 
Gaston  found  no  trace  of  his  children.  In  sheer 
desperation,  however,  he  kept  on.  The  sun  rose, 
and  the  negroes  were  still  rowing.  At  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  boats  entered  Ross's 
mill-pond.  This  Dr.  Gaston  knew  was  the  end 
of  his  journey.  If  the  boat  had  drifted  into  this 
pond,  and  been  carried  over  the  dam,  the  children 
were  either  drowned  or  crushed  on  the  rocks  be- 
low. If  their  boat  had  not  entered  the  pond, 
then  they  had  been  rescued  the  day  before  by 
some  one  living  near  the  river. 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  Dr.  Gaston 
landed.  And  yet  there  were  no  signs  of  a  tragedy 
anywhere  near.  John  Cosby,  the  miller,  fat  and 
hearty,  stood  in  the  door  of  the  mill,  his  arms  akim- 
bo, and  watched  the  boats  curiously.  I  lis  children 
were  playing  near.  A  file  o\~  geese  was  march- 
ing down  to  the  water,  and  a  flock  of  pigeons  was 


THE    MILLER   AND    HIS    CHILDREN. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  43 

sailing  overhead,  taking  their  morning  exercise. 
Everything  seemed  to  be  peaceful  and  serene. 
As  he  passed  the  dam  on  his  way  to  the  mill,  Dr. 
Gaston  saw  that  there  was  a  heavy  head  of  water, 
but  possibly  not  enough  to  carry  a  large  bateau 
over  ;  still  —  the  children  were  eone  ! 

The  puzzled  look  on  the  miller's  face  disap- 
peared as  Dr.  Gaston  approached. 

"  Well,  the  gracious  goodness  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  howdy,  Doc.  —  howdy  !  Why,  I  'm  right 
down  glad  to  see  you.  Whichever  an'  whichaway 
did  you  come  ?  " 

"My  little  children  are  lost,"  said  Dr.  Gaston, 
shaking  the  miller's  hand.  The  jolly  smile  on 
John  Cosby's  face  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  if  it 
had  been  wiped  out  with  a  sponge. 

"Well,  now,  that  's  too  bad  —  too  bad,"  he  ex- 
claimed, looking  at  his  own  rosy-cheeked  little 
ones  standing  near. 

"  They  were  in  a  bateau,"  said  Dr.  Gaston, 
"  and  I  thought  maybe  they  might  have  drifted 
down  here  and  over  the  mill-dam." 

The  miller's  jolly  smile  appeared  again.  "  Oh, 
no,  Doc.  —  no,  no  !  Whichever  an'  whichaway 
they  went,  they  never  went  over  that  dam.  In 
time  of  a  freshet,  the  thing  might  be  did  ;  but  not 
now.     Oh,  no  !     Ef  it  lies  betwixt  goin'  over  that 


44  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

dam  an'  bein'  safe,  them  babies  is  jest  as  safe  an' 
soun'  as  mine  is." 

"  I  think,"  said  Dr.  Gaston,  "  that  they  started 
out  to  hunt  Jake,  my  carriage- driver,  who  has  run 
away." 

"  Jake  run  away  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Cosby,  grow- 
ing very  red  in  the  face.  "Why,  the  impident 
scoundull !  Hit  ain't  been  three  days  sence  the 
ole  rascal  wuz  here.  He  come  an'  'lowed  that  some 
of  your  wagons  was  a-campin'  out  about  two  mile 
from  here,  an'  he  got  a  bushel  of  meal,  an'  said  that 
if  you  did  n't  pay  me  the  money  down  I  could  take 
it  out  in  physic.  The  impident  ole  scoundull ! 
An'  he  was  jest  as  'umble-come-tumble  as  you 
please — a-bowin',  an'  a-scrapin',  an'  a-howdy-do- 


in\  " 


But  the  old  miller's  indignation  cooled  some- 
what when  Dr.  Gaston  briefly  told  him  of  the  inci- 
dent which  caused  the  old  negro  to  run  away. 

"  Hit  sorter  sticks  in  my  gizzard,"  he  remarked, 
"  when  I  hear  tell  of  a  nigger  hittin'  a  white  man  ; 
but  I  don't  blame  Jake  much." 

"  And  now,"  said  Dr.  Gaston,  "  I  want  to  ask 
your  advice.  You  arc  a  level-headed  man,  and  I 
want  to  know  what  you  think.  The  children  got 
in  the  boat,  and  came  down  the  river.  There  is 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  they  started  on  a  wild- 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  45 

goose  chase  after  Jake ;  but  they  are  not  on  the 
river  now,  nor  is  the  boat  on  the  river.  How  do 
you  account  for  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  Doc,  if  you  want  my  naked  beliefs  about 
it,  I  '11  give  'em  to  you,  fa'r  an'  squar.  It 's  my 
beliefs  that  them  youngsters  have  run  up  agin  old 
Jake  somewhar  up  the  river,  an'  that  they  are  jest 
as  safe' an'  soun'  as  you  is.     Them's  my  beliefs." 

"  But  what  has  become  of  the  boat  ?  " 

''Well,  I  '11  tell  you.  Old  Jake  is  jest  as  cun- 
ning as  any  other  nigger.  He  took  an'  took  the 
youngsters  out,  an'  arterwards  he  drawed  the  boat 
out  on  dry  land.  He  rightly  thought  there  would 
be  pursuit,  an'  he  did  n't  mean  to  be  ketched." 

11  Then  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  "asked 
Dr.  Gaston. 

The  old  man  scratched  his  head. 

"  Well,  Doc,  I  'm  a-talkin'  in  the  dark,  but  it 's 
my  beliefs  them  youngsters  '11  be  at  home  before 
you  can  get  there  to  save  your  life.  Jake  may  not 
be  there,  but  if  he  's  found  the  boy  an'  gal,  he  '11 
carry  'em  safe  home.  Now  you  mind  what  I  tell 
you. 

Dr.  Gaston's  anxiety  was  too  great  to  permit 
him  to  put  much  confidence  in  the  old  miller's  pre- 
diction. What  he  said  seemed  reasonable  enough, 
but  a  thousand  terrible  doubts  had  possession  of 


46  DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

the  father's  mind.  He  hardly  dared  go  home  with- 
out the  children.  He  paced  up  and  down  before 
the  mill,  a  most  miserable  man.  He  knew  not 
where  to  go  or  what  to  do. 

Mr.  Cosby,  the  miller,  watched  him  awhile,  and 
shook  his  head.  "If  Doc.  don't  find  them  young- 
sters," he  said  to  himself,  "he  '11  go  plum  dees- 
tracted."     But  he  said  aloud  : 

"Well,  Doc,  you  an'  the  niggers  must  have  a 
breathing-spell.  We  '11  go  up  to  the  house  an'  see 
ef  we  can't  find  somethin'  to  eat  in  the  cubberd, 
an'  arterwards,  in  the  time  you  are  restin',  we  '11 
talk  about  findin'  the  youngsters.  If  there's  any 
needcessity,  I  '11  go  with  you.  My  son  John  can  run 
the  mill  e'en  about  as  good  as  I  can.  We  '11  go 
up  yan  to  'Squire  Ross's  an'  git  a  horse  or  two, 
an'  we  '11  scour  the  country  on  both  sides  of  the 
river.  But  you  've  got  to  have  a  snack  of  some- 
thin'  to  eat,  an'  you  've  got  to  take  a  rest.  Human 
natur'  can't  stand  the  strain." 

Torn  as  he  was  by  grief  and  anxiety,  Dr.  Gas- 
ton knew  this  was  good  advice.  He  gratefully 
accepted  John  Cosby's  invitation  to  breakfast,  as 
well  as  his  offer  to  aid  in  the  search  for  the  lost 
children.  After  Doctor  Gaston  had  eaten,  he  sat 
on  the  miller's  porch  and  tried  to  collect  his 
thoughts  so  as  to  be  able  to  form  some  plan  of 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  47 

search.  While  the  two  men  were  talking,  they 
heard  Big  Sam  burst  out  laughing.  He  laughed 
so  loud  and  heartily  that  Mr.  Cosby  grew  angry, 
and  went  into  the  back  yard  to  see  what  the  fun 
was  about.  In  his  heart  the  miller  thought  the 
negroes  were  laughing  at  the  food  his  wife  had 
set  before  them,  and  he  was  properly  indignant. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "  what  's  this  I  hear? 
Two  high-fed  niggers  a-laughin'  beca'se  their 
master's  little  ones  are  lost  and  gone  !  And  has 
it  come  to  this  ?  A  purty  pass,  a  mighty  purty 
pass ! "  Both  the  negroes  grew  very  serious 
at  this. 

"  Mars'  John,  we-all  was  des  projickin'  wid 
one  an'er.  You  know  how  niggers  is  w'en  dey 
git  nuff  ter  eat.  Dey  feel  so  good  dey  'bleege 
ter  holler." 

Mr.  Cosby  sighed,  and  turned  away.  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  I  hope  niggers  's  got  souls,  but  I  know 
right  p'int-blank  that  they  ain't  got  no  hearts." 

Now,  what  was  Big  Sam  laughing  at? 

He  was  laughing-  because  he  had  found  out 
where  Lucien  and  Lillian  were.  How  did  he 
find  out?  In  the  simplest  manner  imaginable. 
Sandy  Bill  and  Big  Sam  were  sitting  in  Mr. 
Cosby's  back  yard  eating  their  breakfast,  while 
little  Willyum  was  eating  his  in  the  kitchen.  It 
3* 


48  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

was  the  first  time  the  two  older  negroes  had  had 
an  opportunity  of  talking  together  since  they 
started  from  home  the  day  before. 

"  Sam,"  said  Sandy  Bill,  "  did  you  see  whar  de 
chillun  landed  w'en  we  come  'long  des  a'ter  sun- 
up dis  morn  in'  ?  " 

"  Dat  I  did  n't,"  said  Sam,  wiping  his  mouth 
with  the  back  of  his  hand  —  "  dat  I  did  n't,  an'  ef  I 
had  I  Yl  a  hollered  out  ter  Marster." 

11  Dat  w'at  I  wuz  feared  un,"  said  Sandy  Bill. 

"  Feared  er  what?  "  asked  Big  Sam. 

41  Feared  you  'd  holler  at  Marster  ef  you  seed 
whar  dey  landed.  Dat  how  come  I  ter  run  foul 
er  yo'  boat." 

"  Look  yer,  nigger  man,  you  ain't  done  gone  J 
'stracted,  is  you  ?  " 

"Shoo,  chile!  don't  talk  ter  me  'bout  gwine 
'stracted.      I  got  ez  much  sense  ez  Ole  Zip  Coon." 

"Den  why  n't  you  tell  Marster?  Ain't  you 
done  see  how  he  troubled  in  he  min'  ?  " 

41  I  done  see  dat,  en  it  makes  me  feel  bad;  but 
t'er  folks  got  trouble,  too,  lots  wuss'n  Marster." 

"  Is  dey  los'  der  chillun  ?  " 

"Yes  —  Lord!  de)-  done  los*  eve'ybody.  But 
Marster  ain't  los'  no  chillun  yit." 

"  I  )en  wat  we  doin'  way  down  yer  ?  "  asked  Big 
Sam  in  an  angry  tone. 


§pf"'/f^ 


1  I    «SK^IA    ":2>w^: 


'  v.t 


% 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  51 

"  Le'  me  tell  you,"  said  Sandy  Bill,  laying  his 
hand  on  Big  Sam's  shoulder;  "  le'  me  tell  you. 
Right  cross  dar  fum  whar  I  run  foul  er  yo'  boat  is 
de  biororest  cane-brake  in  all  creation." 

"  I  know  'im,"  said  Big  Sam.  "  Dey  calls  'im 
Hudson's  cane-brake." 

"Now  you  talkin',"  said  Sandy  Bill.  "Well, 
ef  you  go  dar  you  '11  fin'  right  in  the  middle  er 
dat  cane-brake  a  heap  er  niggers  dat  you  got 
quaintance  wid  —  Randall  Spivey,  an'  Crazy  Sue, 
an'  Cupid  Mitchell,  an'  Isaiah  Little  —  dey  er  all 
dar;  an'  ole  man  Jake,  he  dar  too." 

"  Lookyer,  nigger,"  Sam  exclaimed,  "  how  you 
know  ?  " 

"  I  sent  'im  dar.  He  come  by  me  in  de  fiel' 
an'  tole  me  he  done  kilt  de  overseer,  an'  I  up  an' 
tell  'im,  I  did,  '  Make  fer  Hudson's  cane-brake,' 
an'  dar  's  riorht  whar  he  went." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Big  Sam's  hearty 
laughter  attracted  the  attention  of  Dr.  Gaston 
and  Mr.  Cosby. 

"Now,  den,"  said  Sandy  Bill,  after  the  miller 
had  rebuked  them  and  returned  to  the  other  side 
of  the  house,  "  now,  den,  ef  I  'd  'a'  showed  Marster 
whar  dem  chillun  landed,  en  tole  'im  whar  dey 
wuz,  he  'd  'a'  gone  'cross  dar,  en  seed  dem  nig- 
gers, an'  by  dis  time  nex'  week  ole  Bill   Locke's 


52  DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

nigger-dogs  would  'a'  done  run  urn  all  in  jail. 
You  know  how  Marster  is.  He  think  kaze  he 
treat  his  niggers  right  dat  eve'ybody  else  treat 
der'n  des  dat  a-way.  But  don't  you  worry  'bout 
dem  chillun." 

Was  it  possible  for  Sandy  Bill  to  be  mistaken  ? 


ECIE}     ind  L  ruddle 

-  ,    --  , 

-  -   '    - 

-     [e.    Her  - 

I 

As  the  nio 

- 

IpOO 

- 
- 

:  seemed  t  = 

a 

the  face  of  :. 


54  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

faded  red  handkerchief,  tied  in  a  fantastic  fashion, 
and  as  much  of  her  dress  as  could  be  seen  was 
ragged,  dirty,  and  greasy.  She  was  not  pleasant 
to  look  upon,  but  the  children  slept  on  unconscious 
of  her  presence. 

Presently  the  woman  came  nearer.  On  the 
lower  bank  a  freshet  had  deposited  a  great  heap 
of  sand,  which  was  now  dry  and  soft.  The  woman 
sat  down  on  this,  hugging  her  knees  with  her 
arms,  and  gazed  at  the  sleeping  children  long  and 
earnestly.  Then  she  looked  up  and  down  the 
river,  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen  for  the  fog  that 
lay  on  the  water.  She  shook  her  head  and  mut- 
tered : 

"  Hit  \s  p'izen  down  yer  for  dem  babies.  Yit 
how  I  erwine  erit  um  out  er  dar  ?  " 

She  caught  hold  of  the  boat,  turned  it  around, 
and,  by  means  of  the  chain,  drew  it  partially  on 
the  sand-bank.  Then  she  lifted  Lillian  from  the 
boat,  wrapping  the  quilt  closer  about  the  child, 
carried  her  up  the  bank,  and  laid  her  beneath  the 
trees  where  no  dew  had  fallen.  Returning,  she 
lifted  Lucien  and  placed  him  beside  his  sister. 
But  the  change  aroused  him.  He  raised  himself 
on  his  elbow  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  The  negro 
woman,  apparently  by  force  of  habit,  slipped  be- 
hind a  tree. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  55 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  Lucien  exclaimed,  looking 
around  in  something  of  a  fright.  He  caught  sight 
of  the  frazzled  skirt  of  the  woman's  dress.  "  Who 
is  there  behind  that  tree  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Nobody  but  me,  honey  —  nobody  ner  nothin' 
but  po'  ole  Crazy  Sue.  Don't  be  skeerd  er  me. 
I  ain't  nigh  ez  bad  ez  I  looks  ter  be." 

It  was  now  broad  daylight,  and  Lucien  could 
see  that  the  hideous  ugliness  of  the  woman  was 
caused  by  a  burn  on  the  side  of  her  face  and  neck. 

"  Was  n't  I  in  a  boat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  honey;  I  brung  you  up  yer  fer  ter  keep 
de  fog  fum  pizenin'  you." 

"  I  dreamed  the  Bad  Man  had  me,"  said  Lu- 
cien, shivering  at  the  bare  recollection. 

"  No,  honey ;  't  want  nobody  ner  nothin'  but 
po'  ole  Crazy  Sue.  De  boat  down  dar  on  de 
sand-bank,  an'  yo'  little  sissy  layin'  dar  soun' 
asleep.  Whar  in  de  name  er  goodness  wuz  you- 
all  gwine,  honey  ? "  asked  Crazy  Sue,  coming 
nearer. 

"We  were  going  down  the  river  hunting  for 
Daddy  Jake.  He  's  a  runaway  now.  I  reckon 
we  '11  find  him  after  a  while." 

"Is  you-all  Marse  Doc.  Gaston'  chillun  ? " 
asked  Crazy  Sue,  with  some  show  of  eagerness. 

"Why,  of  course  we  are,"  said  Lucien. 


56  DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

Crazy  Sue's  eyes  fairly  danced  with  joy.  She 
clasped  her  hands  together  and  exclaimed : 

"  Lord,  honey,  I  could  shout, —  I  could  des 
holler  and  shout ;  but  I  ain't  gwine  do  it.  You 
stay  right  dar  by  yo'  little  sissy  till  I  come  back ; 
I  want  ter  run  an'  make  somebody  feel  good. 
Now,  don't  you  move,  honey.     Stay  right  dar." 

With  that  Crazy  Sue  disappeared  in  the 
bushes.  Lucien  kept  very  still.  In  the  first 
place,  he  was  more  than  half  frightened  by  the 
strangeness  of  his  surroundings,  and,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  he  was  afraid  his  little  sister  would 
wake  and  begin  to  cry.  He  felt  like  crying  a 
little  himself,  for  he  knew  he  was  many  miles 
from  home,  and  he  felt  very  cold  and  uncomfort- 
able. Indeed,  he  felt  very  lonely  and  miserable; 
but  just  when  he  was  about  to  cry  and  call 
Daddy  Jake,  he  heard  voices  near  him.  Crazy 
Sue  came  toward  him  in  a  half-trot,  and  behind 
her — close  behind  her — was  Daddy  Jake,  lus 
face  wreathed  in  smiles  and  his  eyes  swimming 
in  tears.  Lucien  saw  him  and  rushed  toward 
him,  and  the  old  man  stooped  and  hugged  the 
boy  to  his  black  bosom. 

"Why,  honey,"  he  exclaimed,  "whar  de  name 
er  goodness  you  come  Pum!     Bless  you!  ef  my 


•»  -       I 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  59 

eyes  wuz  sore  de  sight  un  you  would  make  um 
well.      How  you  know  whar  yo'  Daddy  Jake  is?" 

"  Me  and  sister  started  out  to  hunt  you,"  said 
Lucien,  whimpering  a  little,  now  that  he  had 
nothing  to  whimper  for,  "and  I  think  you  are 
mighty  mean  to  run  off  and  leave  us  all  at  home." 

"  Now  you  talkin',  honey,"  said  Daddy  Jake, 
laughing  in  his  old  fashion.  "  I  boun'  I  'm  de 
meanes'  ole  nigger  in  de  Nunited  State.  Yit, 
ef  I  'd  'a'  know'd  you  wuz  gwine  ter  foller  me  up 
so  close,  I  'd  'a'  fotch  you  wid  me,  dat  I  would ! 
An'  dar  's  little  Missy,"  he  exclaimed,  leaning 
over  the  little  girl,  "  an'  she  's  a-sleepin'  des  ez 
natchul  ez  ef  she  wuz  in  her  bed  at  home.  What 
I  tell  you-all  ? "  he  went  on,  turning  to  a  group 
of  negroes  that  had  followed  him, —  Randall,  Cu- 
pid, Isaiah,  and  others, —  "What  I  tell  you-all? 
Ain't  I  done  bin'  an'  gone  an'  tole  you  dat  deze 
chillun  wuz  de  out-doin'est  chillun  on  de  top-side 
er  de  roun'  worl'  ?  " 

The  negroes  —  runaways  all  —  laughed  and 
looked  pleased,  and  Crazy  Sue  fairly  danced. 
They  made  so  much  fuss  that  they  woke  Lillian, 
and  when  she  saw  Daddy  Jake  she  gave  one 
little  cry  and  leaped  in  his  arms.  This  made 
Crazy  Sue  dance  again,  and  she  would  have  kept 
it  up  for  a  long  time,  but  Randall  suggested  to 


6o  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

Daddy  Jake  that  the  boat  ought  to  be  hauled 
ashore  and  hidden  in  the  bushes.  Crazy  Sue 
stayed  with  the  children  while  the  negro  men 
went  after  the  boat.  They  hauled  it  up  the  bank 
by  the  chain,  and  then  they  lifted  and  carried  it 
several  hundred  yards  away  from  the  river,  and 
hid  it  in  the  thick  bushes  and  grass. 

"  Now,"  said  Daddy  Jake,  when  they  had  re- 
turned to  where  they  left  the  children,  "we  got 
ter  git  away  fum  yer.  Dey  ain't  no  tellin'  w'at 
gwine  ter  happen.  Ef  deze  yer  chillun  kin  slip 
up  on  us  dis  away  w'at  kin  a  grown  man  do  ? " 

The  old  man  intended  this  as  a  joke,  but  the 
others  took  him  at  his  word,  and  were  moving 
off.  "  Wait !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  De  chillun  bleeze 
ter  go  whar  I  go.  Sue,  you  pick  up  little  Missy 
dar,  an'  I  '11  play  hoss  fer  dish  yer  chap." 

Crazy  Sue  lifted  Lillian  in  her  arms,  Daddy 
Jake  stooped  so  that  Lucien  could  climb  up  on 
his  back,  and  then  all  took  up  their  march  for 
the  middle  of  Hudson's  cane-brake.  Randall 
brought  up  the  rear  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  "stop 
up  de  holes." 

It  was  a  narrow,  slippery,  and  winding  path  in 
which  the  negroes  trod  —  a  path  that  a  white  man 
would  have  found  difficult  to  follow.  It  seemed 
to  lead  in  all  directions;  but,  finally,  it  stopped 
on   a  knoll  high  and  dry  above  the  surrounding 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  61 

swamp.  A  fire  was  burning  brightly,  and  the 
smell  of  frying  meat  was  in  the  air.  On  this 
knoll  the  runaway  negroes  had  made  their  camp, 
and  for  safety  they  could  not  have  selected  a 
better  place. 

It  was  not  long  before  Crazy  Sue  had  warmed 
some  breakfast  for  the  children.  The  negroes 
had  brought  the  food  they  found  in  the  boat,  and 
Crazy  Sue  put  some  of  the  biscuits  in  a  tin  bucket, 
hung  the  bucket  on  a  stick,  and  held  it  over  the 
fire.  Then  she  gave  them  some  bacon  that  had 
been  broiled  on  a  stone,  and  altogether  they 
made  a  hearty  breakfast. 

During  the  morning  most  of  the  negro  men 
stayed  in  the  cane-brake,  some  nodding  and  some 
patching  their  clothes,  which  were  already  full 
of  patches.  But  after  dinner,  a  feast  of  broiled 
fish,  roasted  sweet  potatoes,  and  ash-cake,  they 
all  went  away,  leaving  Crazy  Sue  to  take  care 
of  the  children.  After  the  men  had  all  gone,  the 
woman  sat  with  her  head  covered  with  her  arms. 
She  sat  thus  for  a  long  time.  After  a  while  Lu- 
cien  went  to  her  and  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"What  's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothin',  honey;  I  wuz  des  a-settin'  yer 
a-studyin'  an'  a-studyin'.  Lots  er  times  I  gits 
took  dat  a-way." 

"What  are  you  studying  about?"  said  Lucien. 


62  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

"  'Bout  folks.  I  wuz  des  a-studyin'  'bout  folks, 
an'  'bout  how  come  I  whar  I  is,  w'en  I  oughter 
be  somers  else.  W'en  I  set  down  dis  a-way,  I 
gits  dat  turrified  in  de  min'  dat  I  can't  stay  on  de 
groun'  sca'cely.  Look  like  I  want  ter  rise  up  in 
de  elements  an'  fly." 

"  What  made  you  run  away?"  Lucien  asked 
with  some  curiosity. 

"Well,  you  know,  honey,"  said  Crazy  Sue, 
after  a  pause,  "  my  marster  ain't  nigh  ez  good  ter 
his  niggers  ez  yo'  pa  is  ter  his'n.  'T  ain't  dat  my 
marster  is  any  mo'  strick,  but  look  like  hit  fret 
'im  ef  he  see  one  er  his  niggers  settin'  down  any- 
wheres. Well,  one  time,  long  time  ago,  I  had 
two  babies,  an'  dey  wuz  twins,  an'  dey  wuz  des 
'bout  ez  likely  little  niggers  ez  you  ever  did  see. 
De  w'ite  folks  had  me  at  de  house  doin'  de 
washin'  so  I  could  be  where  I  kin  nurse  de  babies. 
One  time  I  wuz  settin'  in  my  house  nursin'  un 
urn,  an'  while  I  settin'  dar  I  went  fast  ter  sleep. 
How  long  I  sot  dar  'sleep,  de  Lord  only  knows, 
but  w'en  I  woked  up,  Marster  wuz  stan'in  in  de 
do',  watchin'  me.  He  ain't  say  nothin,  yit  I 
knowed  dat  man  wuz  mad.  Me  des  turn  on  his 
heel  an'  walk  away.  I  let  you  know  I  put  dem 
babies  down  an'  hustled  out  er  dat  house  mighty 
quick. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  65 

"  Well,  sir,  dat  night  de  foreman  come  'roun' 
an'  tole  me  dat  I  mus'  go  ter  de  fiel'  de  nex' 
morn  in'.  Soon  ez  he  say  dat,  I  up  an'  went 
ter  de  big  house  an'  ax  Marster  w'at  I  gwine 
do  wid  de  babies  ef  I  went  ter  de  fiel'.  He  stood 
an'  look  at  me,  he  did,  an'  den  he  writ  a  note  out 
er  his  pocket-book,  an'  tol'  me  ter  han'  it  ter  de 
overseer.  Dat  w'at  I  done  dat  ve'y  night,  an'  de 
overseer,  he  took  an'  read  de  note,  an'  den  he 
up  an'  say  dat  I  mus'  go  wid  de  hoe-han's,  way 
over  ter  de  two-mile  place. 

"I  went,  kaze  I  bleeze  ter  go;  yit  all  day  long, 
whiles  I  wuz  hoein'  I  kin  year  dem  babies  cryin'. 
Look  like  sometimes  dey  wuz  right  at  me,  an' 
den  ag'in  look  like  dey  wuz  way  off  yander.  I 
kep'  on  a-goin'  an'  I  kep'  on  a-hoein',  an'  de  ba- 
bies kep'  on  a-famishin'.  Dey  des  fade  away, 
an'  bimeby  dey  died,  bofe  un  um  on  the  same 
day.  On  dat  day  I  had  a  fit  an'  fell  in  de  fier, 
an'  dat  how  come  I  burnt  up  so. 

"  Look  like,"  said  the  woman,  marking  on  the 
ground  with  her  bony  forefinger — "look  like  I 
kin  year  dem  babies  cryin'  yit,  an'  dat  de  reason 
folks  call  me  Crazy  Sue,  kaze  I  kin  year  um  cryin' 
an'  yuther  folks  can't.  I  'm  mighty  glad  dey 
can't,   kaze  it  'ud   break  der  heart." 

"Why  did  n't  you  come  and  tell  Papa  about 
it?"  said  Lucien,  indignantly. 


66  DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

"Ah,  Lord,  honey!"  exclaimed  Crazy  Sue, 
"yo'  pa  is  a  mighty  good  man,  an'  a  mighty  good 
doctor,  but  he  ain't  got  no  medicine  wa't  could  'a' 
kyored  me  an'  my  marster." 

In  a  little  while  Daddy  Jake  put  in  an  appear- 
ance, and  the  children  soon  forgot  Crazy  Sue's 
troubles,  and  began  to  think  about  going  home. 

"Daddy  Jake,"  said  Lucien,  "when  are  you 
going  to  take  us  back  home  ? " 

"  I  want  to  go  right  now,"  said  Lillian. 

Daddy  Jake  scratched  his  head  and  thought 
the  matter  over. 

"  Dey  ain't  no  use  talkin',"  said  he,  "  I  got  ter 
carry  you  back  an'  set  you  down  in  sight  er  de 
house,  but  how  I  gfwine  do  it  an'  not  eit  kotched? 
Dat  w'at  troublin'  me." 

"Why,  Papa  ain't  mad,"  said  Lucien.  "I 
heard  him  tell  that  mean  old  overseer  he  had  a 
great  mind  to  take  his  buggy  whip  to  him  for 
hitting  you." 

"  Ain't  dat  man  dead  ?  "  exclaimed  Daddy  Jake 
in  amazement. 

"  No,  he  ain't,"  said  Lucien.  "  Papa  drove 
him  off  the   place." 

"Well,  I  be  blest!"  said  the  old  man  with  a 
chuckle.  "W'at  kinder  head  you  reckon  dat 
w'ite  man  got? — Honey,"  he  went  on,  growing 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  67 

serious  again,  "is  you  sJwly  sho  dat  man  ain't 
dead  ? " 

"  Did  n't  I  see  him  after  you  went  away? 
Did  n't  I  hear  Papa  tell  him  to  go  away  ?  Did 
n't  I  hear  Papa  tell  Mamma  he  wished  you  had 
broken  his  neck?  Did  n't  I  hear  Papa  tell 
Mamma  that  you  were  a  fool  for  running  away?  " 
Lucien  flung  these  questions  at  Daddy  Jake  with 
an  emphasis  that  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

"Well,"  said  Daddy  Jake,  "dat  mus'  be  so,  an' 
dat  bein'  de  case,  we  '11  des  start  in  de  mornin' 
an'  git  home  ter  supper.  We  '11  go  over  yander 
ter  Marse  Meredy  Ingram's  an'  borry  his  carriage 
an'  go  home  in  style.  I  boun'  you,  dey  '11  all  be 
glad  to  see  us." 

Daddy  Jake  was  happy  once  more.  A  great 
burden  had  been  taken  from  his  mind.  The 
other  negroes  when  they  came  in  toward  night 
seemed  to  be  happy,  too,  because  the  old  man 
could  go  back  home ;  and  there  was  not  one  but 
would  have  swapped  places  with  him.  Randall 
was  the  last  to  come,  and  he  brought  a  big,  fat 
chicken. 

"  I  wuz  comin'  'long  cross  de  woods  des  now," 
he  said,  winking  his  eye  and  shaking  his  head  at 
Daddy  Jake,  "  an',  bless  gracious,  dis  chicken 
flew'd  right  in  my  han'.      I  say  ter  myse'f,  I  did, 


68  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

'  Ole  lady,  you  mus'  know  we  got  comp'ny  at  our 
house,'  an'  den  I  clamped  down  on  'er,  an'  yer 
she  is.  Now,  'bout  dark,  I  '11  take  'er  up  yander 
an'  make  Marse  Ingram's  cook  fry  'er  brown  fer 
deze  chillun,  an'  I  '11  make  'er  gimme  some  milk." 

Crazy  Sue  took  the  chicken,  which  had  already 
been  killed,  wet  its  feathers  thoroughly,  rolled  it 
around  in  the  hot  embers,  and  then  proceeded  to 
pick  and  clean  it. 

Randall's  programme  was  carried  out  to  the 
letter.  Mr.  Meredith  Ingram's  cook  fried  the 
chicken  for  him,  and  put  in  some  hot  biscuit  for 
good  measure,  and  the  milker  gave,  him  some 
fresh  milk,  which  she  said  would  not  be  missed. 

The  children  had  a  good  supper,  and  they 
would  have  gone  to  sleep  directly  afterward,  but 
the  thought  of  going  home  with  Daddy  Jake 
kept  them  awake.  Randall  managed  to  tell 
Daddy  Jake,  out  of  hearing  of  the  children,  that 
Dr.  Gaston  and  some  of  his  negroes  had  been 
seen  at  Ross's  mill  that  morning. 

"Well,"  said  Daddy  Jake,  "I  bleeze  ter  beat 
Marster  home.  Ef  he  go  bark  dar  widout  de  Chil- 
ian, my  mistiss  '11  drap  right  dead  on  de  floV 
This   was  his  only  comment. 

Around  the  fire  the  negroes  laughed  and  joked, 
and  told  their  adventures.      Lillian  felt  comforta- 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY  69 

ble  and  happy,  and  as  for  Lucien,  he  himself  felt 
a  hero.  He  had  found  Daddy  Jake,  and  now  he 
was  going  to  carry  him  back  home. 

Once,  when  there  was  a  lull  in  the  talk,  Lillian 
asked  why  the  frogs  made  so  much  fuss. 

"  I  speck  it  's  kaze  dey  er  mad  wid  Mr.  Rab- 
bit," said  Crazy  Sue.  "  Dey  er  tryin'  der  best 
ter  drive  'im  outen  de  swamp." 

"What  are  they  mad  with  the  Rabbit  for?" 
asked  Lucien,  thinking  there  might  be  a  story  in 
the  explanation. 

"  Hit 's  one  er  dem  ole-time  fusses,"  said  Crazy 
Sue.      "  Hit's  most  too  ole  ter  talk  about." 

"Don't  you  know  what  the  fuss  was  about?" 
asked  Lucien. 

"Well,"  said  Crazy  Sue,  "one  time  Mr.  Rab- 
bit an'  Mr.  Coon  live  close  ter  one  anudder  in  de 
same  neighborhoods.  How  dey  does  now,  I  ain't 
a-tellin'  you  ;  but  in  dem  times  dey  wa'n't  no  hard 
feelin's  'twix'  urn.  Dey  des  went  'long  like  two 
ole  cronies.  Mr.  Rabbit,  he  wuz  a  fisherman, 
and  Mr.  Coon,  he  wuz  a  fisherman  —  " 

"  And  put  'em  in  pens,"  said  Lillian,  remember- 
ing an  old  rhyme  she  had  heard. 

"  No,  honey,  dey  ain't  no  Willium-Come-Trim- 
bletoe   in  dis.      Mr.    Rabbit   an'  Mr.    Coon   wuz 


70  DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

bofe  fishermans,  but  Mr.  Rabbit,  he  kotch  fish,  an' 
Mr.  Coon,  he  fished  fer  frogs.  Mr.  Rabbit,  he 
had  mighty  good  luck,  an'  Mr.  Coon,  he  had 
mighty  bad  luck.  Mr.  Rabbit,  he  got  fat  an' 
slick,  an'  Mr.  Coon,  he  got  po'  an'  sick. 

"  Hit  went  on  dis  a- way  tell  one  day  Mr.  Coon 
meet  Mr.  Rabbit  in  de  big  road.  Dey  shook 
han's,  dey  did,  an'  den  Mr.  Coon,  he  'low  : 

"  '  Brer  Rabbit,  whar  you  git  sech  a  fine  chance 
er  fish  ?  ' 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  laugh  an'  say :  '  I  kotch  urn  outen 
de  river,  Brer  Coon.  All  I  got  ter  do  is  ter  bait 
my  hook,'  sezee. 

"  Den  Mr.  Coon  shake  his  head  an'  'low  :  '  Den 
how  come  I  ain't  kin  ketch  no  ftws  ? ' 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  sat  down  in  de  road  an'  scratched 
fer  fleas,  an'  den  he  'low  :  4  Hit  's  kaze  you  done 
make  urn  all  mad,  Brer  Coon.  One  time  in  de 
dark  er  do  moon,  you  slipped  down  ter  de  branch 
an'  kotch  do  ole  King  Frog;  an'  ever  sence  dat 
time,  w'enever  you  or  passin'  by,  you  kin  year  urn 
sing  out,  fus'  one  an'  dm  anudder  —  )  er  he  come  / 
Dar  he  goes  !  I  fit  }im  in  de  eve ;  hit  'i///  in  de  eve  ! 
Mash  * ii)i  er//  sinnsh  '/;;/  ,•  mash  '/;;/  aif  smash  Hm! 
Yasser,  dat  w'at  dey  say.  I  year  urn  constant, 
Brer  Coon,  an'  dat  dos  w'at  i\v\  saw' 

"  Den   Mr.  Coon  up  an'  say:  '  Ef  dat  de  way 


ff*    1 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  73 

dey  gwine  on,  how  de  name  er  goodness  kin  I 
ketch  urn,  Brer  Rabbit?  I  bleeze  ter  have  sum- 
p'n  ter  eat  fer  me  an'  my  fambly  connection.' 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  sorter  grin  in  de  cornder  er  his 
mouf,  an'  den  he  say :  '  Well,  Brer  Coon,  bein'  ez 
you  bin  so  sociable  'long  wid  me,  an'  ain't  never 
showed  yo'  toofies  w'en  I  pull  yo'  tail,  I  '11  des 
whirl  in  an'  he'p  you  out.' 

"  Mr.  Coon,  he  say  :  '  Thanky,  thanky-do,  Brer 
Rabbit' 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  hung  his  fish  on  a  tree  lim',  an' 
say  :  '  Now,  Brer  Coon,  you  bleeze  ter  do  des  like 
I  tell  you.' 

"  Mr.  Coon  'lowed  dat  he  would  ef  de  Lord 
spared  'im. 

"  Den  Mr.  Rabbit  say  :  '  Now,  Brer  Coon,  you 
des  rack  down  yander,  an'  git  on  de  big  san'-bar 
'twix'  de  river  an'  de  branch.  W'en  you  git  dar 
you  mus'  stagger  like  you  sick,  and  den  you  mus' 
whirl  roun'  an'  roun'  an'  drap  down  like  you  dead. 
After  you  drap  down,  you  must  sorter  jerk  yo'  legs 
once  er  twice,  an'  den  you  mus'  lay  right  still. 
Ef  fly  light  on  yo'  nose,  let  'im  stay  dar.  Don't 
move;  don't  wink  yo'  eye;  don't  switch  yo'  tail. 
Des  lay  right  dar,  an'  't  won't  be  long  'fo'  you 
year  f'um  me.  Yit  don't  you  move  till  I  give  de 
word.' 


74  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

"  Mr.  Coon,  he  paced  off,  he  did,  an'  done  des 
like  Mr.  Rabbit  tol'  'im.  He  staggered  roun'  on 
de  san'-bank,  an'  den  he  drapped  down  dead. 
Atter  so  long  a  time,  Mr.  Rabbit  come  lopin'  'long, 
an'  soon  's  he  git  dar,  he  squall  out,  ■  Coon  dead  ! ' 
Dis  rousted  de  frogs,  an'  dey  stuck  dey  heads  up 
fer  ter  see  w'at  all  de  rippit  wuz  'bout.  One  great 
big  green  un  up  an'  holler,  Wat  de  matter? 
W'at  de  matter?    He  talk  like  he  got  a  bad  col'. 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  'low  :    '  Coon  dead  ! ' 

"  Frog  say  :  Doiit  believe  it !    Dorit  believe  it! 

"  N'er  frog  say  :  Yes,  he  is!  Yes,  he  is!  Lit- 
tle bit  er  one  say:    No,  he  aint!    No,  he  airit! 

"  Dey  kep'  on  'sputin'  an'  'sputin',  tell  bimeby 
hit  look  like  all  de  frogs  in  de  neighborhoods  wuz 
dar.  Mr.  Rabbit  look  like  he  ain't  a-yearin'  ner 
a-keerin'  wa't  dey  do  er  say.  He  sot  dar  in  de  san' 
like  he  gwine  in  mournin'  fer  Mr.  Coon.  De  Frogs 
kep'  gittin'  closer  an'  closer.  Mr.  Coon,  he  ain't 
move.  Wen  a  11)'  VI  git  on  'im  Mr.  Rabbit  he  Yl 
bresh  'im  off. 

"  Bimeby  he  'low :  '  Ef  you  want  ter  git  'im 
outen  de  way,  now  's  yo'  time,  Cousin  Frogs. 
I  )us  whirl  in  an'  bur)'  him  deep  in  de  san'.' 

"  Big  ole  Frog  say  :  How  we  gwine  ter  do  it? 
How  we  gwine  ter  do  it? 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  'low  :  '  Dig  de  san'  out  fum  under 
'im  an' let  'im  down  in  de  hole.' 


il    i       *' 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  77 

"  Den  de  Frogs  dey  went  ter  work  sho  nuff. 
Dey  mils'  'a'  bin  a  hunderd  un  um,  an'  dey  make 
dat  san'  fly,  mon.  Mr.  Coon,  he  ain't  move.  De 
Frogs,  dey  dig  an'  scratch  in  de  san'  tell  atter  while 
dey  had  a  right  smart  hole,  an'  Mr.  Coon  wuz 
down  in  dar. 

"  Bimeby  big  Frog  holler  :  Dis  deep  nuff?  Dis 
deep  miff? 

"Mr.  Rabbit  'low  :    '  Kin  you  jump  out?  ' 
"  Big  Frog  say:   '  Yes,  I  kin  I     Yes,  I  kin  I 
"  Mr.  Rabbit  say  :    '  Den  't  ain't  deep  nuff.' 
"  Den  de  Frogs  dey  dig  an'  dey  dig,  tell,  bime- 
by, Big  Frog  say  :  Dis  deep  nuff?   Dis  deep  nuff? 
Mr.  Rabbit  llow  :   '  Kin  you  jump  out  ? ' 
"Big  Frog  say  :  /  dess  kin  /     I  dess  kin  / 
"  Mr.  Rabbit  say  :  <  Dig  it  deeper.' 
"  De  Frogs  keep  on  diggin'  tell  bimeby,  big 
Frog  holler  out :  Dis  deep  nuff?  Dis  deep  nuff? 
"  Mr.  Rabbit  'low  :  '  Kin  you  jump  out  ?  ' 
"Big    Frog    say:    No,  I  can't!     No,  leant/ 
Come  hep  me  !     Come  hep  me  / 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  bust  out  laughin',  and  holler  out: 
"'Rise    up,    Sandy,    an'  git  yo'   Meat!'  an' 
Mr.  Coon  riz." 

Lucien  and  Lillian  laughed  heartily  at  this 
queer   story,   especially  the  curious  imitation  of 


78  DADDY    JAKE,  THE    RUNAWAY 

frogs  both  big  and  little  that  Crazy  Sue  gave. 
Lucien  wanted  her  to  tell  more  stories,  but  Daddy 
Jake  said  it  was  bedtime;  and  the  children  were 
soon  sound  asleep. 

The  next  morning  Daddy  Jake  had  them  up 
betimes.  Crazy  Sue  took  Lillian  in  her  arms, 
and  Daddy  Jake  took  Lucien  on  his  back.  As 
they  had  gone  into  the  cane-brake,  so  they  came 
out.  Randall  and  some  of  the  other  negroes 
wanted  to  carry  Lillian,  but  Crazy  Sue  would  n't 
listen  to  them.  She  had  brought  the  little  girl 
in,  she  said,  and  she  was  going  to  carry  her  out. 
Daddy  Jake,  followed  by  Crazy  Sue,  went  in  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Meredith  Ingram's  house.  It 
was  on  a  hill,  more  than  a  mile  from  the  river, 
and  was  in  a  grove  of  oak-trees.  As  they  were 
making  their  way  through  a  plum  orchard,  not  far 
from  the  house,  Crazy  Sue  stopped. 

"Brer  Jake,"  she  said,  lidis  is  all  de  fur  I  'm 
gwine.  I  'm  'mos'  too  close  ter  dat  house  now. 
You  lake  dis  baby  an'  let  dat  little  man  walk. 
'T  ain't  many  steps  ter  whar  you  gwine." 
Crazy  Sue  wrung  Daddy  Jake's  hand,  stooped 
and  kissed  the  children,  and  with  a  "  Cod  bless 
you  all  !  "  disappeared  in  the  bushes,  and  none  of 
the  three  ever  saw  her  again. 

Mr.  Meredith  Ingram  was  standing  out  in  his 


"THE    OLD    NEGRO    PUT    HIS    HANDS   TO    HIS    MOUTH    AND    CALLED. 


DADDY   JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY  81 

front  yard,  enjoying  a  pipe  before  breakfast.  He 
was  talking  to  himself  and  laughing  when  Daddy 
Jake  and  the  children  approached, 

"  Howdy,  Mars'  Meredy,"  said  the  old  negro, 
taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing  as  politely  as  he 
could  with  the  child  in  his  arms.  Mr.  Ingram 
looked  at  him  through  his  spectacles  and  over 
them. 

"  Ain't  that  Gaston's  Jake  ?  "  he  asked,  after  he 
had  examined  the  group. 

''Yasser,"  said  Daddy  Jake,  "an'  deze  is  my 
marster's  little  chillun." 

Mr.  Ingram  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  Why,  what  in  the  world  !  —  Why,  what  under 
the  sun  !  —  Well,  if  this  does  n't  beat — why,  what 
in  the  nation!  " — Mr.  Ingram  failed  to  find  words 
to  express  his  surprise. 

Daddy  Jake,  however,  made  haste  to  tell  Mr. 
Ingram  that  the  little  ones  had  drifted  down  the 
river  in  a  boat,  that  he  had  found  them,  and 
wished  to  get  them  home  just  as  quickly  as  he 
could. 

"  My  marster  bin  huntin'  fer  urn,  suh,"  said  the 
old  negro,  and  I  want  ter  beat  him  home,  kaze  ef 
he  go  dar  widout  deze  chillun,  my  mistiss  '11  be 
a  dead  oman  —  she  cert'n'y  will,  suh." 

"Well,    well,    well!"   exclaimed    Mr.    Ingram. 


82  DADDY    JAKE,  THE   RUNAWAY 

"  If  this  don't  beat  —  why,  of  course,  I  '11  send 
them  home.  I  '11  go  with  'em  myself.  Of  course 
I  will.  Well,  if  this  does  n't  —  George!  hitch  up 
the  carriage.  Fetch  out  Ben  Bolt  and  Rob  Roy, 
and  go  and  get  your  breakfast.  Jake,  you  go 
and  help  him,  and  I  '11  take  these  chaps  in  the 
house  and  warm  'em  up.  Come  on,  little  ones. 
We  '11  have  something  to  eat  and  then  we  '11  go 
right  home  to  Pappy  and  Mammy."  They  went 
in,  Mr.  Ingram  muttering  to  himself,  "  Well,  if 
this  does  n't  beat — " 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Ingram,  the  children, 
Daddy  Jake,  and  George,  the  driver,  were  up 
and  away,  as  the  fox-hunters  say.  Daddy  Jake 
sat  on  the  driver's  seat  with  George,  and  urged 
on  the  horses.  They  traveled  rapidly,  and  it  is 
well  they  did,  for  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
Gaston  place,  Daddy  Jake  saw  his  master  enter- 
ine  the  avenue  that  led  to  the  house.  The  old 
negro  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and  called  so 
loudly  that  the  horses  jumped.  Doctor  Gaston 
hoard  him  and  stopped,  and  in  a  minute  more 
had  his  children  in  his  arms,  and  that  night  there 
was  a  happy  family  in  the  Gaston  house.  But 
nobody  was  an)-  happier  than  Daddy  Jake. 


HOW   A  WITCH    WAS    CAUGHT 

THE  little  boy  sat  in  a  high  chair  and  used  his 
legs  as  drumsticks,  much  to  the  confusion 
of  Uncle  Remus,  as  it  appeared.  After  a  while 
the  old  man  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  my  goodness  en  de  gracious !  how  you 
ever  in  de  roun'  worl'  er  anywheres  else  speck 
me  fer  ter  make  any  headway  in  tellin'  a  tale 
wiles  all  dish  yer  racket  gwine  on  ?  I  don^t  want 
ter  call  nobody's  pa,  kase  he  mos'  allers  talks  too 
loud,  en  if  I  call  der  ma  't  won't  make  so  mighty 
much  difference,  kase  she  done  got  so  usen  ter  it 
dat  she  dunner  w'en  dey  er  makin'  any  fuss.  I 
believe  dat  ef  everything  wuz  ter  git  right  good 
en  still  on  deze  premises  des  one  time,  you'  ma 
would  in  about  die  wid  de  headache.  Anyway, 
she  'd  be  mighty  sick,  bekaze  she  ain't  usen  ter 
not  havin'  no  fuss,  en  she  des  could  n't  git  'long 
widout  it. 

"  I  tell  you  right  now,  I  'd  be  afeard  fer  ter  tell 
any  tale  roun'  yer,  kaze  de  fust  news  I   know'd 

83 


84  HOW   A   WITCH    WAS   CAUGHT 

I  'd  git  my  eyes  put  out,  er  my  leg  broke,  er 
sump'n'  n'er.  I  knows  deze  yer  w'ite  chillun, 
mon  !  dat  I  does ;  I  knows  um.  Dey  '11  git  de 
upper  hand  er  de  niggers  ef  de  Lord  spar's  um. 
En  he  mos'  inginner'lly  spar's  um. 

"Well,  now,  ef  you  want  ter  hear  dish  yer  tale 
w'at  I  bin  tu'nin'  over  in  my  min'  you  des  got  ter 
come  en  set  right  yer  in  front  er  me,  whar  I  kin 
keep  my  two  eyes  on  you  ;  kaze  I  ain't  gwine  ter 
take  no  resks  er  no  foolishness.  Now,  den,  you 
des  better  behave,  bekaze  hit  don't  cost  me  no- 
thin'  fer  ter  cut  dis  tale  ri^ht  short  off. 

"  One  time  der  wuz  a  miller  man  w'at  live  by 
a  river  en  had  a  mill.  He  wuz  a  mighty  smart 
man.  He  tuck  so  much  toll  dat  he  tuck  'n  buyed 
'im  a  house,  en'  he  want  ter  rent  dat  'ar  house  out 
ter  folks,  but  de  folks  dey  'lowed  dat  de  house  wuz 
ha'nted.  Dey  'd  come  'en  rent  de  house,  dey 
would,  en  move  in  dar,  en  den  go  upsta'rs  en  go 
ter  bed.  Dey  'd  go  ter  bed,  dey  would,  but  dey 
could  n't  sleep,  en  time  it  got  day  dey  VI  git  out 
er  dat  house. 

"  De  miller  man,  he  ax'd  um  w'at  de  matter  wuz, 
but  dey  des  shuck  der  head  en'  'low  de  house  wuz 
ha'nted.  \)vn  he  tuck  'n  try  ter  fine  out  w'at 
kind  er  ha'nt  she  wuz  dat  skeer  folks.  1  le  sleep 
in  de  house,  but  he  ain't  see  nothin',  en  de  mos' 


HOW   A   WITCH   WAS    CAUGHT  85 

w'at  he  year  wuz  a  big  ole  gray  cat  a-promenadin 
roun'  en  hollerin'.  Bimeby  hit  got  so  dat  dey 
want  no  fun  in  havin'  de  ha'nted  house,  en  w'en 
folks  'd  come  'long  de  miller  man,  he  'd  des  up 
en  tell  urn  dat  de  house  'uz  ha'nted.  Some  'ud 
go  up  en  some  would  n't,  but  dem  w'at  went  up 
did  n't  stay,  kaze  des  'bout  bedtime  dey  'd  fetch 
a  yell  en  des  come  a-rushin'  down,  en  all  de  money 
in  de  Nunited  States  er  Georgy  would  n't  git  um 
fer  ter  go  back  up  dar. 

"  Hit  went  on  dis  away  twel  one  time  a  preacher 
man  com'  'long  dar  en  say  he  wanted  some'rs  ter 
stay.  He  was  a  great  big  man,  en  he  look  like 
he  wuz  good  accordin'.  De  miller  man  say  he 
hate  mighty  bad  for  to  discommerdate  'im,  but  he 
des  pintedly  ain't  got  no  place  whar  he  kin  put 
'im  'cep'  dat  'ar  ha'nted  house.  De  preacher  man 
say  he  des  soon  stay  dar  ez  anywhar's,  kase  he 
bin  livin'  in  deze  low-groun's  er  sorrer  too  long 
fer  ter  be  sot  back  by  any  one-hoss  ha'nts.  De 
miller  man  'lowed  dat  he  wuz  afeard  de  ha'nts  'ud 
worry  'im  might'ly,  but  de  preacher  man  'low,  he 
did,  dat  he  use  ter  bein'  worried,  en  he  up  en  tell 
de  miller  man  dat  he  'd  a  heap  rather  stay  in  de 
house  wid  de  ha'nt,  no  matter  how  big  she  is, 
dan  ter  stay  out  doors  in  de  rain. 

"  So  de  miller  man,  he  'low  he  ain't  got  no  mo' 


86  HOW    A   WITCH    WAS    CAUGHT 

'pology  fer  ter  make,  bekaze  ef  de  preacher  man 
wuz  ready  fer  ter  face  de  ha'nts  and  set  up  dar  en 
out  blink  um,  dey  would  n't  be  nobody  in  de 
roun'  worl'  no  gladder  dan  'im.  Den  de  miller 
man  showed  de  preacher  man  how  ter  git  in  de 
house  en  had  'im  a  great  big  her  built.  En  atter 
de  miller  man  wuz  done  gone,  de  preacher  man 
drawee!  a  cheer  up  ter  de  fier  en  waited  fer  de 
ha'nts,  but  dey  ain't  no  ha'nts  come.  Den  w'en 
dey  ain't  no  ha'nts  come,  de  preacher  man  tuck  'n 
open  up  he  satchel  en  got  'im  out  some  spar'  ribs 
en  sot  um  by  de  fier  fer  ter  cook,  en  den  he  got 
down  en  said  he  pra'rs,  en  den  he  got  up  en  read 
he  Bible.  He  wuz  a  mighty  good  man,  mon,  en 
he  prayed  en  read  a  long  time.  Bimeby,  w'en 
his  spar'  ribs  git  done,  he  got  some  bread  out'n 
he  satchel,  en  fixed  fer  ter  eat  his  supper. 

"By  de  time  he  got  all  de  meat  off'n  one  er  de 
ribs,  de  preacher  man  listened,  en  he  year'd  a 
monst'us  scramblin'  en  scratchin'  on  de  wall.  He 
look  aroun',  he  did,  en  dar  wuz  a  great  big  black 
cat  a-sharpenin'  'er  claws  on  de  door  facin'. 
Folks,  don't  talk  !  dat  'ar  cat  wuz  er  sight !  Great 
long  w'ite  toofs  en  great  big  yaller  eye-balls 
a-shinin'  like  dey  wuz  lit  up  way  back  in  'er  head. 
She  stood  dar  a  minit,  dat  ole  black  cat  did,  en 
den  she  'gun  ter  sidle  up  like  she  wuz  gwine  ter 


SHE   STOOD    DAR    A   MINIT,  DAT    OLE    BLACK    CAT    DID." 


HOW   A   WITCH    WAS   CAUGHT  ? 

mount  dat  preacher  man  right  dar  en  den.  But 
de  preacher  man,  he  des  shoo'd  at  'er,  en  it  seem 
like  dis  sorter  skeer'd  'er,  kaze  she  went  off. 

"  But  de  preacher  man,  he  kep'  his  eye  open, 
en  helt  on  ter  his  spar'  rib.  Present'y  he  year 
de  ole  black  cat  comin'  back,  en  dis  time  she 
fotch  wid  'er  a  great  big  gang  er  cats.  Dey  wuz 
all  black  des  like  she  wuz,  en  der  eye-balls 
shineded  en  der  lashes  wuz  long  en  w'ite.  Hit 
look  like  de  preacher  man  wuz  a-gwine  ter  git 
surroundered. 

"  Dey  come  a-sidlin'  up,  dey  did,  en  de  ole 
black  cat  made  a  pass  at  de  preacher  man  like 
she  wuz  a-gwine  ter  t'ar  he  eyes  out.  De 
preacher  man  dodged,  but  de  nex'  pass  she  made 
de  preacher  man  fotch  'er  wipe  with  his  spar'  rib 
en  cut  off  one  er  'er  toes.  Wid  dat  de  ole  black  cat 
fotch  a  yell  dat  you  might  a  yeard  a  mile,  en  den 
she  gin  'erself  a  sort  er  a  twis'  en  made  her  dis- 
appearance up  de  chimbley,  en  w'en  she  do  dat 
all  de  yuther  cats  made  der  disappearance  up 
de  chimbley.  De  preacher  man  he  got  up,  he 
did,  en  looked  und'  de  bed  fer  ter  see  ef  he  kin 
fine  any  mo'  cats,  but  dey  wuz  all  done  gone. 

"  Den  he  tuck  'n  pick  up  de  cat  toe  w'at  he 
done  knock  off  wid  de  spar'  rib,  en  wrop  it  up  in 
a  piece  er  paper  en  put  it  in  he  pocket.      Den  he 


9o  HOW   A   WITCH    WAS    CAUGHT 

say  his  pra'rs  some  mo',  en  went  ter  bed  en  slep' 
right  straight  along  twel  broad  daylight,  en 
nuthin'  ain't  dast  ter  bodder  'im. 

"  Nex'  mornin'  de  preacher  man  got  up,  he 
did,  en  say  his  pra'rs  en  eat  his  breakkus,  en  den 
he  'low  ter  hisse'f  dat  he  '11  go  by  en  tell  de  miller 
man  dat  he  mighty  much  erblige.  'Fo'  he  start, 
hit  come  'cross  he  min'  'bout  de  cats  w'at  pester 
'im  de  night  befo',  and  he  tuck  'n  feel  in  he 
pockets  fer  de  big  black  cat  toe  w'at  he  done  cut 
off  wid  de  spar'  rib.  But  it  seems  like  de  toe 
done  grow  in  de  night,  en  bless  goodness !  w'en 
he  unwrop  it  't  want  nuthin'  less  dan  a  great  big 
finger  wid  a  ring  on  it. 

"  So  de  preacher  man  tuck  'n  fix  up  all  his  con- 
trapments,  en  den  call  on  de  miller  man  en  tol' 
'im  he  wuz  mighty  much  erblige  kaze  he  let  'im 
stay  in  de  house.  De  miller  man  wuz  'stonish' 
fer  ter  see  de  preacher  man,  kaze  he  knew  dat 
w'en  folks  stay  all  night  in  dat  house  dey  ain't 
come  down  no  mo'.  He  wuz  'stonish',  but  he 
did  n't  say  much.      He  des  stan'  still  en  wunder. 

"  But  de  preacher  man,  he  up  'n  ax  'bout  de 
miller  man's  wife,  en  say  he  wants  ter  sec  Vr  en 
nil  Vr  good-bye,  bein'  ez  how  dey  'd  all  bin  so 
good.  So  de  miller  man,  he  tuck  'n  kyar  de 
preacher  inter  de   room   whar  his  wife  wuz  layin' 


HOW   A   WITCH    WAS    CAUGHT  91 

in  bed.  De  ole  'oman  had  de  counterpin  drawed 
up  und'  'er  chin,  but  she  look  mighty  bad  roun' 
de  eyes.  Yit,  she  tuck  'n'  howdied  de  preacher 
man  en  tole  'im  he  wuz  mighty  welcome. 

"  Dey  talk  en  talk,  dey  did,  en  atter  w'ile  de 
preacher  man  hoi'  out  his  han'  fer  ter  tell  de  'oman 
good-bye  ;  but  de  'oman,  she  helt  out  'er  lef  han', 
she  did,   like  she  want  dat  fer  ter  git  shucken. 
But  de  preacher  man  would  n't  shake  dat  un.    He 
say  dat  ain't  nigh  gwine  ter  do,  bekaze  w'en  folks 
got  any  perliteness  lef  dey  don't  never  hoi'  out 
de  lef  han'.      De  'oman  she  say  her  right  wuz 
cripple,  but  her  ole  man  'low  he  ain't  never  hear 
'bout  dat  befo',  en  den  he  tuck  'n  make  'er  pull  it 
out  from  und'  de  kivver,  en  den  dey  seed  dat  one 
er  'er  fingers  wuz  done  clean  gone.      De  miller 
man  he  up  'n  'low : 
"  '  How  come  dis  ? ' 
"  De  'oman  she  'low,  '  I  cut  it  off.' 
"  De  miller  man  he  'low,  '  How  you  cut  it  off?' 
"  De  'oman  she  'low,  '  I  knock  it  off? ' 
"  De   miller    man    he    'low,    '  Wharbouts    you 
knock  it  off?' 

"  De  'oman  she  'low,  '  I  broke  it  off.' 
"  De  miller  man  he  'low,  '  When  you  break  it 
off?' 

"  Den  de  'oman  she  ain't  say  nuthin'.     She  des 


92  HOW    A    WITCH    WAS   CAUGHT 

lay  dar,  she  did,  en  pant  en  look  skeered.  De 
preacher  man  he  study  a  little  en  den  he  say  he 
speck  he  kin  kyo'  dat  han',  en  he  tuck  de  finger 
out  'n  he  pocket  en  tried  it  on  de  Oman's  han',  en  it 
fit !  Yassar  !  it  fit  in  de  place  right  smick  smack 
smoove.  Den  de  preacher  man  he  up  en  tell  de 
miller  man  dat  de  oman  wuz  a  witch,  en  wid  dat 
de  'oman  fetched  a  yell  en  kivvered  'er  head  wid 
de  counterpin. 

"  Yit  dis  ain't  do  'er  no  good,  kaze  de  preacher 
man  say  he  done  look  in  de  books  en  de  onliest 
way  fer  ter  kyo'  a  witch  is  ter  bu'n  'er ;  en  it  ain't 
look  so  bad,  nuther,  kaze  when  dey  tied  'er  she 
tuck  'n  tu'n  ter  be  a  great  big  black  cat,  en  dat 's 
de  way  she  wuz  w'en  she  wuz  burnt." 


THE    LITTLE    BOY  AND    HIS    DOGS 

UNCLE  REMUS'S  little  patron  seemed  to  be 
so  shocked  at  the  burning  of  the  woman  that 
the  old  man  plunged  at  once  into  a  curious  story 
about  a  little  boy  and  his  two  dogs. 

"  One  time,"  said  Uncle  Remus,  scratching  his 
head  as  if  by  that  means  to  collect  his  scattered 
ideas,  "  dere  wuz  a  oman  livin'  'longside  er  de  big 
road,  en  dish  yer  'oman  she  had  one  little  boy. 
Seem  like  ter  me  dat  he  mus'  'a'  bin  des  'bout 
yo'  size.  He  mout  'a'  bin  a  little  broader  in  de 
shoulder  en  a  little  longer  in  de  leg,  yit,  take  'im 
up  one  side  en  down  de  udder,  he  wuz  des  'bout 
yo'  shape  en  size.  He  wuz  a  mighty  smart  little 
boy,  en  his  mammy  sot  lots  by  'im.  Seem  like 
she  ain't  never  have  no  luck  'cept'n  'long  wid  dat 
boy,  kaze  dey  wuz  one  time  w'en  she  had  a  little 
gal,  en,  bless  yo'  soul !  somebody  come  'long  en 
tote  de  little  gal  off,  en  w'en  dat  happen  de  'oman 
ain't  have  no  mo'  little  gal,  en  de  little  boy  ain't 
have  no  mo'  little  sister.     Dis  make  bofe  er  urn 

5*  93 


94  THE    LITTLE   BOY    AND    HIS   DOGS 

mighty  sorry,  but  look  like  de  little  boy  wuz  de 
sorriest,  kaze  he  show  it  de  mosest. 

"  Some  days  he  'd  take  a  notion  fer  ter  go  en 
hunt  his  little  sister,  en  den  he  'd  go  down  de  big 
road  en  clam  a  big  pine-tree,  en  git  right  spang 
in  de  top,  en  look  all  roun'  fer  ter  see  ef  he  can't 
see  his  little  sister  some'rs  in  de  woods.  He 
could  n't  see  'er,  but  he  'd  stay  up  dar  in  de 
tree  en  swing  in  de  win'  en  'low  ter  hisself  dat 
maybe  he  mout  see  'er  bimeby. 

"  One  day,  w'iles  he  wuz  a-settin'  up  dar,  he  see 
two  mighty  fine  ladies  walkin'  down  de  road.  He 
clam  down  out  'n  de  tree,  he  did,  en  run  en  tol'  his 
mammy.     Den  she  up  en  ax  : 

"  '  How  is  dey  dress,  honey  ? ' 

"  '  Mighty  fine,  mammy,  mighty  fine,  puffy-out 
petticoats  en  long  green  veils.' 

"  '  How  des  dey  look,  honey  ? ' 

"  'Spick  span  new,  mammy.' 

"  '  Dey  ain't  none  er  our  kin,  is  dey,  honey  ? ' 

"  '  Dat  dey  ain't,  mammy  —  de)'  er  might)'  fine 
ladies.' 

"  De  fine  ladies,  dey  come  on  down  de  road, 
dey  did,  en  stop  by  de  'oman's  house,  en  beg  'er 
fer  ter  please  en  gi'  um  some  water.  I  )ey  little 
boy,  he  run  en  fetch  'em  a  gourd  full,  en  dey  put 
de  gourd   and'  der  veils,  en  drunk,  en  drunk,  en 


THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND   HIS   DOGS  95 

drunk  des  like  dey  wuz  mighty  nigh  perish  fer 
water.  De  little  boy  watch  urn.  'Reckly  he  hol- 
ler out : 

"  '  Mammy,  mammy  !  Wat  you  recken  ?  Dey 
er  lappin'  de  water.'     De  woman  hollered  back  : 

"  *  I  recken  dat  's  de  way  de  quality  folks  does, 
honey.' 

"  Den  de  ladies  beg  fer  some  bread,  en  de  little 
boy  tuck  um  a  pone.  Dey  eat  it  like  dey  wuz 
mighty  nigh  famish  fer  bread.  Bimeby  de  little 
boy  holler  out  en  say: 

11  'Mammy,  mammy!  Wat  you  recken?  Dey 
er  got  great  long  tushes.'  De  'oman,  she  holler 
back : 

" '  I  recken  all  de  quality  folks  is  got  um, 
honey.' 

"  Den  de  ladies  ax  fer  some  water  fer  to  wash 
der  han's,  en  de  little  boy  brung  um  some.  He 
watch  um,  en  bimeby  he  holler  out : 

"  '  Mammy,  mammy  !  Wat  you  recken  ?  Dey 
got  little  bit  er  hairy  han's  en  arms.'  De  'oman, 
she  holler  back : 

" '  I  recken  all  de  quality  folks  is  got  um, 
honey.' 

"  Den  de  ladies  beg  de  'oman  fer  ter  please  en 
let  de  little  boy  show  um  whar  de  big  road  forks. 
But  de  little  boy  don't  want  ter  go.    He  holler  out : 


96  THE    LITTLE   BOY    AND    HIS    DOGS 

"  '  Mammy,  folks  don't  hatter  be  showed  whar 
de  road  forks ' ;  but  de  oman  she  'low  : 

"  '  I  recken  de  quality  folks  does,  honey.' 

"  De  little  boy,  he  'gun  ter  whimple  en  cry  kaze 
he  don't  want  ter  go  wid  de  ladies,  but  de  'oman 
say  he  oughter  be  'shame  er  hisse'f  fer  ter  be 
gwine  on  dat  away  'fo'  de  quality  folks,  en  mo' 
'n  dat,  he  mout  run  upon  his  little  sister  en  fetch 
'er  home. 

"  Now  dish  yer  little  boy  had  too  mighty  bad 
dogs.  One  er  urn  wuz  name  Minnyminny  Mo- 
rack,  en  de  t'er  one  wuz  name  Follerlinsko,  en 
dey  wuz  so  bad  dey  hatter  be  tied  in  de  yard  day 
en  night,  'cep'  w'en  dey  wuzent  a-huntin'.  So 
de  little  boy,  he  went  en  got  a  pan  er  water  en  sot 
'im  down  in  de  middle  er  de  flo\  en  den  he  went 
en  got  'im  a  wilier  lim',  en  he  stuck  it  in  de  groun'. 
Den  he  'low  : 

"  '  Mammy,  w'en  de  water  in  dish  yer  pan  tu'ns 
ter  blood,  den  you  run  out  en  tu'n  loose  Minny- 
minny Morack  en  Follerlinsko,  en  den  w'en  you 
see  dat  dar  wilier  lim'  a-shakin',  you  run  en  sick 
um  on  my  track.' 

"  De  'oman,  she  up  an'  say  she  'd  tu'n  de  dogs 
loose,  en  den  de  little  boy  he  stuck  his  ban's  in 
he  pockets  en  went  on  down  de  road  a  wisserlin' 
des  same   ez   enny  yuther  little   boy,  'cep'  dat  he 


THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND   HIS   DOGS  97 

wuz  lots  smarter.  He  went  on  down  de  road,  he 
did,  en  de  fine  quality  ladies  dey  come  on  behin'. 

"  De  furder  he  went  de  faster  he  walk.  Dis 
make  de  quality  ladies  walk  fas',  too,  en  't  want 
so  mighty  long  To'  de  little  boy  year  um  makin'  a 
mighty  kuse  fuss,  en  w'en  he  t'un  'roun',  bless 
gracious !  dey  wuz  a-pantin',  kaze  dey  wuz  so 
tired  en  hot.  De  little  boy  'low  ter  hisse'f  dat  it 
mighty  kuse  how  ladies  kin  pant  same  es  a  wil' 
varment,  but  he  say  he  speck  dat  de  way  de 
quality  ladies  does  w'en  dey  gits  hot  en  tired,  en 
he  make  like  he  can't  year  um,  kaze  he  want  ter 
be  nice  en  perlite. 

"Atter  a  w'ile,  w'en  de  quality  ladies  t'ink  de 
little  boy  want  lookin'  at  um,  he  seed  one  er  um 
drap  down  on  'er  all-fours  en  trot  'long  des  like  a 
varmint,  en  't  want  long  'fo'  de  yuther  one  drapt 
down  on  'er  all-fours.      Den  de  little  boy  'lowed : 

"  Shoo!  Ef  dat  de  way  quality  ladies  res'  der- 
se'f  w'en  dey  git  tired  I  reckon  a  little  chap  'bout 
my  size  better  be  fixin   fer  ter  res'  hisse'f.' 

"  So  he  look  'roun',  he  did,  en  he  tuck  'n  pick 
'im  out  a  great  big  pine-tree  by  de  side  er  de 
road,  en  'gun  to  clam  it.  Den  w'en  dey  see  dat, 
one  er  de  quality  ladies  'low  : 

"  '  My  goodness  !  Wat  in  de  worl'  you  up  ter 
now  ? '     Little  boy  he  say,  sezee  : 


98  THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND    HIS    DOGS 

"  '  I  'm  des  a-clamin'  a  tree  fer  ter  res'  my 
bones.'     Ladies,  dey  'low  : 

"  'Why  n't  you  res'  urn  on  de  groun' ? '  Little 
boy  say,  sezee : 

"  '  Bekaze  I  like  ter  git  up  whar  it  cool  en 
high.' 

"  De  quality  ladies,  dey  tuck  'n  walk  'roun'  en 
'roun'  de  tree  like  dey  wuz  medjun  it  fer  ter  see 
how  big  it  is.    Bimeby,  atter  w'ile  dey  say,  sezee : 

"  '  Little  boy,  little  boy  !  you  better  come  down 
frum  dar  en  show  us  de  way  ter  de  forks  er  de 
road.'     Den  de  little  boy  'low  : 

"  '  Des  keep  right  on,  ladies  —  you  '11  fin'  de 
forks  er  de  road  ;  you  can't  miss  urn.  I  'm  afeard 
fer  ter  come  down,  kaze  I  might  fall  en  hurt  some 
er  you  all.'     De  ladies  dey  say,  sezee : 

"  '  You  better  come  down  yer  To'  we  run  en 
tell  yo'  mammy  how  bad  you  is.'  De  little  boy 
'low  : 

11  '  Wiles  you  er  tellin'  'er  please  um'  tell  'er  how 
skeerd  I  is.' 

"  Den  de  quality  ladies  got  might)-  mad.  Dey 
walked  'roun'  dat  tree  en  fairly  snorted.  Dey 
pulled  oil  der  bonnets,  en  der  veils,  en  der  dresses, 
en,  lo  en  beholes !  de  little  boy  seen  dey  wuz  two 
great  big  pant'ers.  Dey  had  great  big  eyes,  en 
big  sharp  tushes,  en  great  long  tails,  en  dey  look 


THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND   HIS   DOGS  99 

up  at  de  little  boy  en  growl  en  grin  at  'im  twel  he 
come  mighty  nigh  havin'  a  chill.  Dey  tried  ter 
clam  de  tree,  but  dey  had  done  trim  der  claws  so 
dey  could  git  on  gloves,  en  dey  could  n't  clam 
no  mo'. 

"  Den  one  er  urn  sot  down  in  de  road  en  made 
a  kuse  mark  in  de  san',  en  der  great  long  tails 
tu'n'd  ter  axes,  en  no  sooner  is  der  tails  tu'n  ter 
axes  den  dey  'gun  ter  cut  de  tree  down.  I  ain't 
dast  ter  tell  you  how  sharp  dem  axes  wuz,  kase 
you  would  n't  nigh  b'lieve  me.  One  er  um  stood 
on  one  side  er  de  tree,  en  de  yuther  one  stood  on 
de  yuther  side,  en  dey  whack  at  dat  tree  like  dey 
wuz  takin'  a  holiday.  Dey  whack  out  chips  ez 
big  ez  yo'  hat,  en  't  want  so  mighty  long  'fo'  de 
tree  wuz  ready  fer  ter  fall. 

"  But  w'iles  de  little  boy  wuz  settin'  up  dar, 
skeerd  mighty  nigh  ter  def,  hit  come  inter  his 
min'  dat  he  had  some  eggs  in  his  pocket  w'at  he 
done  brung  wid  'im  fer  ter  eat  w'enever  he  git 
hongry.  He  tuck  out  one  er  de  eggs  en  broke 
it,  en  say :  '  Place,  fill  up  ! '  en,  bless  yo'  soul !  de 
place  fill  up  sho  'nuff,  en  de  tree  look  des  'zackly 
like  nobody  ain't  bin  a-cuttin'  on  it. 

"  But  dem  ar  pant'ers  dey  wuz  werry  vig'rous, 
Dey  des  spit  on  der  han's  en  cut  away.  Wen 
dey  git  de  tree  mighty  nigh  cut  down  de  little  boy 


ioo  THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND   HIS   DOGS 

he  pull  out  'n'er  egg  en  broke  it,  en  say,  '  Place, 
fill  up  ! '  en  by  de  time  he  say  it  de  tree  wuz  done 
made  soun'  agin.  Dey  kep'  on  dis  away  twel  de 
little  boy  'gun  ter  git  skeerd  agin.  He  done 
broke  all  he  eggs,  'ceptin'  one,  en  dem  ar  creeturs 
wuz  des  a-cuttin'  away  like  dey  wuz  venomous, 
w'ich  dey  mos'  sholy  wuz. 

"  Des  'bout  dat  time  de  little  boy  mammy 
happen  ter  stumble  over  de  pan  er  water  w'at  wuz 
settin'  down  on  de  flo',  en  dar  it  wuz  all  done  tu'n 
ter  blood.  Den  she  tuck  'n  run  en  unloose  Min- 
nyminny  Morack  en  Follerlinsko.  Den  w'en  she 
do  dat  she  see  de  wilier  lim'  a-shakin',  en  den  she 
put  de  dogs  on  de  little  boy  track,  en  away  dey 
went.  De  little  boy  year  uni  a-comin',  en  he 
holler  out : 

"  '  Come  on,  my  good  clogs.  Here,  dogs, 
here.' 

"  De  pant'ers  dey  stop  choppin'  en  lissen. 
One  ax  de  yuther  one  w'at  she  year.  Little  boy 
say  : 

"  'You  don'  year  nothin'.  Go  on  wid  yo'  chop- 
pin'.' 

"  De  pant'ers  dry  chop  some  mo',  en  den  dey 
think  dey  year  de  dogs  a-comin'.  Den  dey  try 
der  bes  for  ter  git  away,  but  't  want  no  use.  Dey 
ain't  got  time  fer  ter  change  der  axes  back  inter 


THE   LITTLE   BOY  .  ANp  ?H1,S   DOGS  101 

tails,  en  co'se  dey  can't  run  wid  axes  draggin'  be- 
hin'  urn.  So  de  dogs  cotch  um.  De  little  boy,  he 
'low  : 

44  '  Shake  um  en  bite  um.  Drag  um  'roun'  en 
'roun'  twel  you  drag  um  two  mile.'  So  de  dogs 
dey  drag  um  'roun'  two  mile.  Den  de  little  boy 
say,  sezee : 

"  '  Shake  um  en  t'ar  um.  Drag  um  'roun'  en 
'roun'  twel  you  drag  um  ten  mile.'  So  dey  drag 
um  ten  mile,  en  by  de  time  dey  got  back,  de  pant'- 
ers  wuz  col'  en  stiff. 

14  Den  de  little  boy  clum  down  out  'n  de  tree,  en 
sot  down  fer  ter  res'  'hisse'f.  Bimeby  atter  w'ile, 
he  'low  ter  hisse'f  dat  bein'  he  hav  so  much  fun, 
he  b'lieve  he  takes  his  dogs  en  go  way  off  in  de 
woods  fer  ter  see  ef  he  can't  fin  his  little  sister. 
He  call  his  dogs,  he  did,  en  went  off  in  de  woods, 
en  dey  ain't  bin  gone  so  mighty  fur  'fo'  he  seed  a 
house  in  de  woods  away  off  by  itse'f. 

44  De  dogs  dey  went  up  en  smelt  'roun',  dey  did, 
en  come  wid  der  bristles  up,  but  de  little  boy  'low 
he  'd  go  up  dar  anyhow  en  see  w'at  de  dogs  wuz 
mad  'bout.  So  he  call  de  dogs  en  went  todes  de 
house,  en  w'en  he  got  close  up  he  saw  a  little  gal 
totin'  wood  en  water.  She  wuz  a  mighty  purty 
little  gal,  kaze  she  had  a  milk-white  skin,  en  great 
long  yaller  hair ;  but  'er  cloze  wuz  all  in  rags,  en 


io2  .T-iii-:  Li'- in:  r.ov  and  his  dogs 

she  wuz  cryin'  kaze  she  hatter  work  so  hard. 
Minnyminny  Morack  en  Follerlinsko  wagged  der 
tails  wen  dey  seed  de  little  gal,  en  de  little  boy 
know'd  by  dat  dat  she  wuz  his  sister. 

"  So  he  went  up  en  ax  er  w'at  'er  name  is,  en  she 
say  she  dunner  w'at  'er  name  is,  kaze  she  so  skeerd 
she  done  fergit.  Den  he  ax  'er  w'at  de  name  er 
goodness  she  cryin'  'bout,  en  she  say  she  cryin' 
kaze  she  hatter  work  so  hard.  Den  he  ax  'er  who 
de  house  belong  ter,  en  she  'low  it  b'longf  ter  a 
great  big  ole  black  Bar,  en  dis  old  B'ar  make  'er 
tote  wood  en  water  all  de  time.  She  say  de 
water  is  ter  go  in  te  big  wash -pot,  en  de  wood  is 
fer  ter  make  de  pot  bile,  en  de  pot  wuz  ter  cook 
folks  w'at  de  great  big  ole  B'ar  brung  home  ter 
he  chilluns. 

"  De  little  boy  did  n't  tell  de  little  gal  dat  he 
wuz  'er  br'er,  but  he  'low  dat  he  was  gwine  ter 
stay  en  eat  supper  wid  de  big  ole  B'ar.  De  little 
girl  cried  en  'low  he  better  not,  but  de  little  boy 
say  he  ain't  feared  irv  ter  eat  supper  wid  a  B'ar. 
So  dey  went  in  de  house,  en  w'en  de  little;  boy  got 
in  dar,  he  seed  dat  de  I  Tar  had  two  great  big 
chilluns,  en  one  er  inn  wuz  squattin'  on  de  bed,  en 
de  yuther  one  wuz  squattin  down  in  de  h'ath.  De 
chilluns,  dey  wuz  bole  er  urn  name  Cubs,  ter  short, 
but  de  little  boy   want   skeerd  er  um,  kaze  dar  wuz 


THE   LITTLE   BOY    AND    HIS    DOGS  103 

his  dogs  fer  ter  make  way  wid  urn  ef  dey  so  much 
ez  roll  der  eye-ball. 

"  De  ole  B'ar  wuz  a  mighty  long  time  comin' 
back,  so  de  little  gal  she  up  'n  fix  supper,  anyhow, 
en  de  little  boy  he  tuck  'n  scrouge  Cubs  fus  on 
one  side  en  den  on  yuther,  en  him  en  de  little  gal 
got  much  ez  dey  vvant.  Atter  supper  de  little  boy 
tole  de  little  gal  dat  he  'd  take  en  comb  'er  ha'r 
des  ter  w'ile  away  de  time  ;  but  de  little  gal  ha'r 
ain't  bin  comb  fer  so  long,  en  it  am  got  in  such  a 
tankle,  dat  it  make  de  po'  creetur  cry  fer  ter  hear 
anybody  talkin'  'bout  combin'  un  it.  Den  de  little 
boy  'low  he  ain't  gwine  ter  hurt  'er,  en  he  tuck  'n 
warm  some  water  in  a  pan  en  put  it  on  'er  ha'r,  en 
den  he  comb  en  curlt  it  des  ez  nice  as  you  mos' 
ever  see. 

"  Wen  de  ole  B'ar  git  home  he  wuz  mighty 
tuck  'n  back  w'en  he  seed  he  had  com'ny,  en  w'en 
he  see  urn  all  settin'  down  like  dey  come  den  fer 
ter  stay.  But  he  wuz  mighty  perlite,  en  he  shuck 
han's  all  'roun',  en  set  down  by  de  fier  en  dry  his 
boots,  en  ax  'bout  de  craps,  en  'low  dat  de  wed- 
der  would  be  monstus  fine  ef  dey  could  git  a  little 
season  er  rain. 

"  Den  he  tuck  'n  make  a  great  'miration  over 
de  little  gal's  ha'r,  en  he  ax  de  little  boy  how  in 
de  roun'  worl'  kin  he  curl  it  en  fix  it  so  nice,    De 


104  THE    LITTLE    BOY    AND    HIS   DOGS 

little  un  'low  it  's  easy  enough.  Den  de  ole  B'ar 
say  he  b'lieve  he  like  ter  git  his  ha'r  curlt  up  dat 
way,  en  de  little  boy  say : 

"  '  Fill  de  big  pot  wid  water.' 

"  De  ole  B'ar  filled  de  pot  wid  water.  Den  de 
little  boy  say : 

"  '  Buil'  a  fier  unci'  de  pot  en  heat  de  water  hot.' 

"Wen  de  water  got  scaldin'  hot,  de  little  boy 
say  : 

"  'All  ready,  now.  Stick  yo'  head  in.  Hit  's 
de  onliest  way  fer  ter  make  yo'  ha'r  curl.' 

"  Den  de  ole  B'ar  stuck  he  head  in  de  water, 
en  dot  wuz  de  las'  er  him,  bless  gracious  !  De 
scaldin'  water  curlt  de  ha'r  twel  it  come  off,  en  I 
speck  dat  whar  dey  get  de  idee  'bout  puttin'  b'ar 
grease  on  folks'  ha'r.  De  young  b'ars  dey  cry 
like  ever'ting  w'en  dey  see  how  der  daddy  bin 
treated,  en  dey  want  bite  and  scratch  de  little  boy 
en  his  sister,  but  dem  dogs  —  dat  Minnyminny 
Morack  en  dat  Follerlinsko  —  dey  des  laid  holt 
er  dem  dar  b'ars,  en  dey  want  enough  lef  er  um 
ter  feed  a  kitten." 

"  What  did  they  do  then  ?  "  asked  the  little  boy 
who  had  been  listening  to  the  Story.  The  old 
man  took  off  his  spectacles  and  cleaned  the  glasses 
on  his  coat  tail. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  went  on,  "de  little  boy  tuck  'n 


w/. 


ALL    READY,  NOW.     STICK    YO'    HEAD    IN." 


THE   LITTLE   BOY   AND   HIS   DOGS  107 

kyard  his  sister  home,  an'  his  mammy  says  she 
ain't  never  gwine  ter  set  no  sto'  by  folks  wid  fine 
cloze,  kaze  dey  so  'ceitful ;  no,  never,  so  long  as 
de  Lord  mout  spar'  'er.  En  den,  atter  dat,  dey 
tuck  'n  live  terge'er  right  straight  'long,  en  ef  it 
had  n't  but  a  bin  fer  de  war,  dey  'd  a  bin  a-livin' 
dar  now.  Bekaze  war  is  a  mighty  dangersome 
business." 


HOW    BLACK    SNAKE     CAUGHT    THE 
WOLF 

"  /^\NE  time,"  said  Uncle  Remus,  putting  the 
V^  "noses"  of  the  chunks  together  with  his 
cane,  so  as  to  make  a  light  in  his  cabin,  "  Brer 
Rabbit  en  ole  Brer  Wolf  wuz  gwine  down  de  road 
terge'er,  en  Brer  Wolf,  he  'low  dat  times  wuz 
mighty  hard  en  money  skace.  Brer  Rabbit,  he 
'gree  'long  wid  'im,  he  did,  dat  times  wuz  mighty 
tight,  en  he  up  en  say  dat  't  wuz  in  about  much 
ez  he  kin  do  fer  ter  make  bofe  en's  meet.  He 
'low,  he  did  : 

11  '  Brer  Wolf,  you  er  gittin'  mighty  ga'nt,  en  't 
won't  be  so  mighty  long  To'  we  11  hatten  be  tuck 
up  en  put  in  de  po'-house.  Wat  make'  dis?  '  says 
Brer  Rabbit,  sezee:  l  1  be  bless  ef  I  kin  tell,  kaze 
yer  cr  all  de  creeturs  gittin'  ga'nt  w'iles  all  de  rep- 
tules  is  a-gittin'  seal  fat.  No  longer  'n  yistiddy,  I 
wuz  comin'  along  throo  de  woods.  w'en  who  should 
I  meet  but  ole  Brer  Snake,  en  he  wuz  dat  put  dat 
lie  ain't  kin  skacely  pull  he  tail  'long  atter  he 
head.      I  'low  ter  mese'f,   I  did,  dat  dish  yer  coun- 

108 


HOW   BLACK   SNAKE   CAUGHT   THE   WOLF      109 

try  gittin'  in  a  mighty  bad  way  w'en  de  creeturs 
is  got  ter  go  'roun'  wid  der  ribs  growin'  terge'er 
w'iles  de  reptules  layin'  up  in  de  sun  des  nat'ally 
fattenin'  on  der  own  laziness.  Yessar,  dat  w'at 
I  'lowed.' 

"  Brer  Wolf,  he  say,  he  did,  dat  if  de  reptules 
wuz  gittin'  de  Vantage  er  de  creeturs  dat  away, 
dat  hit  wuz  'bout  time  fer  ter  clean  out  de  reptules 
er  leaf  de  country,  en  he  'low,  fuddermo',  dat  he 
wuz  ready  fur  ter  jine  in  wid  de  patter-rollers  en 
drive  urn  out. 

"  But  Brer  Rabbit,  he  'low,  he  did,  dat  de  bes' 
way  fer  ter  git  'long  wuz  ter  fin'  out  whar'bouts 
de  reptules  hed  der  smoke-'house  en  go  in  dar 
en  git  some  er  de  vittles  w'at  by  good  rights 
b'long'd  ter  de  creeturs.  Brer  Wolf  say  maybe 
dis  de  bes'  way,  kaze  ef  de  reptules  git  word  dat 
de  patter-rollers  is  a-comin'  dey  '11  take  en  hide  de 
ginger-cakes,  en  der  simmon  beer,  en  der  w'atzis- 
names,  so  dat  de  creeturs  can't  git  um.  By  dis 
time  dey  come  ter  de  forks  er  de  road,  en  Brer 
Rabbit  he  went  one  way,  en  Brer  Wolf  he  went 
de  yuther. 

"  Whar  Brer  Wolf  went,"  Uncle  Remus  went 
on,  with  increasing  gravity,  "  de  goodness  knows, 
but  Brer  Rabbit,  he  went  on  down  de  road  todes 
he  own  house,   en  w'iles  he  wuz   lippitin'  long, 


no  HOW  BLACK  SNAKE  CAUGHT  THE  WOLF 

nibblin'  a  bite  yer  en  a  bite  dar,  he  year  a  mighty 
kuse  fuss  in  de  woods.  He  lay  low,  Brer  Rabbit 
did,  en  lissen.  He  look  sharp,  he  did,  en  bimeby 
he  ketch  a  glimp'  er  ole  Mr.  Black  Snake  gwine 
'long-  thoo  de  grass.  Brer  Rabbit,  he  lay  low  en 
watch  'im.  Mr.  Black  Snake  crope  'long,  he  did, 
des  like  he  wuz  greased.  Brer  Rabbit  say  ter  his- 
se'f : 

"  ■  Hi !  dar  goes  one  er  de  reptules,  en  ez  she 
slips  she  slides  'long.' 

"  Yit,  still  he  lay  low  en  watch.  Mr.  Black 
Snake  crope  'long,  he  did,  en  bimeby  he  come 
whar  dey  wuz  a  great  big  poplar-tree.  Brer  Rab- 
bit, he  crope  on  his  belly  en  follow  'long  atter. 
Mr.  Black  Snake  tuck  'n  circle  all  'roun'  de  tree, 
en  den  he  stop  en  sing  out : 

"'Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo  ! 
Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo  ! ' 

"  En  den,  mos'  To'  Brer  Rabbit  kin  wink  he 
eye,  a  door  w'at  wuz  in  de  tree  flew'd  open,  en 
Mr.  Black  Snake  tuck  'n  crawl  in.  Brer  Rabbit 
'low,  he  did  : 

"'Ah-yi!    Dar  whar  you  stay  !    Dar  whar  you 


HOW  BLACK  SNAKE  CAUGHT  THE  WOLF   m 

keeps  yo'  simmon  beer !    Dar  whar  you  hides  yo' 
backbone  en  spar'  ribs.     Ah-yi ! ' 

"Wen  Mr.  Black  Snake  went  in  de  house, 
Brer  Rabbit  crope  up,  he  did,  en  lissen  fer  ter 
see  w'at  he  kin  year  gwine  on  in  dar.  But  he 
ain't  year  nothin'.  Bimeby,  w'iles  he  settin'  'roun' 
dar,  he  year  de  same  song : 


"  '  Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario,  wo  ! 
Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo  ! ' 


"  En  mos'  'fo'  Brer  Rabbit  kin  hide  in  de  weeds, 
de  door  hit  flew'd  open,  en  out  Mr.  Black  Snake 
slid.  He  slid  out,  he  did,  en  slid  off,  en  atter  he 
git  out  er  sight,  Brer  Rabbit,  he  tuck  'n  went 
back  ter  de  poplar-tree  fer  ter  see  ef  he  kin  git  in 
dar.  He  hunt  'roun'  en  he  hunt  Youn',  en  yit  ain't 
fin'  no  door.  Den  he  sat  up  on  he  behin'  legs, 
ole  Brer  Rabbit  did,  en  low : 

"  '  Hey  !  w'at  kinder  contrapshun  dish  yer?  I 
seed  a  door  dar  des  now,  but  dey  ain't  no  door 
dar  now.' 

"  Ole  Brer  Rabbit  scratch  he  head,  he  did,  en 
bimeby  hit  come  inter  he  min'  dat  maybe  de  song 


ii2     HOW   BLACK   SNAKE   CAUGHT   THE   WOLF 

got  sump'n  'n'er  ter  do  wid   it,   en   wid   dat  he 
chimed  up,  he  did,  en  sing : 

"  '  Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Bandario,  wo- haw  !  ' 

''Time  he  say  fus'  part,  de  door  sorter  open, 
but  w'en  he  say  de  las'  part  hit  slammed  shet  ag'in. 
Den  he  chune  up  some  mo' : 

"  '  Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Bandario,  wo-haw  !  ' 

"  Time  he  say  de  fus'  part  de  door  open  little 
ways,  but  time  he  say  de  las'  part  hit  slammed 
shet  ag'in.  Den  Brer  Rabbit  'low  he  'd  hang 
'roun'  dar  en  fin'  out  w'at  kind  er  hinges  dat  er 
door  wuz  a-swingin'  on.  So  he  stays  'roun'  dar, 
he  did,  twel  bimeby  Mr.  Black  Snake  came  long 
back.  Brer  Rabbit  crope  up,  he  did,  en  he  year 
'im  sing  de  song : 

"  *  Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo! 

Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo ! ' 

"Den  de  door  open,  en  Mr.  Black  Snake,  he 
slid  in,  en  Brer  Rabbit,  he  lipped  off  in  de  bushes 


HOW   BLACK   SNAKE   CAUGHT   THE   WOLF      113 

en  sung  de  song  by  hisse'f.  Den  he  went  home 
en  tuck  some  res',  en  nex'  day  he  went  back ;  en 
w'en  Mr.  Black  Snake  come  out  en  went  off,  Brer 
Rabbit,  he  tuck  'n  sing  de  song,  en  de  door  fiewed 
open,  en  in  he  went.  He  went  in,  he  did,  en 
w'en  he  got  in  dar,  he  fin'  lots  er  goodies.  He 
fin'  cakes  en  sausages,  en  all  sort  er  nice  doin's. 
Den  he  come  out,  en  de  nex'  day  he  went  he  tole 
Ole  Brer  Wolf,  en  Brer  Wolf,  he  'low  dat,  bein'  ez 
times  is  hard,  he  b'lieve  he  '11  go  'long  en  sample 
some  er  Mr.  Black  Snake's  doin's. 

"  Dey  went,  dey  did,  en  soon  ez  dey  fin'  dat 
Mr.  Black  Snake  is  gone,  Brer  Rabbit  he  sing 
de  song,  en  de  door  open,  en  in  he  went.  He 
went  in  dar,  he  did,  en  he  gobbled  up  his  belly- 
ful, en  w'iles  he  doin'  dis  Brer  Wolf  he  gallop 
'roun'  en  'roun',  tryin'  fer  ter  git  in.  But  de  door 
done  slam  shet,  en  Brer  Wolf  ain't  know  de  song. 
Bimeby  Brer  Rabbit  he  come  out,  he  did,  lickin' 
he  chops  en  wipin'  he  mustash,  en  Brer  Wolf  ax 
'im  w'at  de  name  er  goodness  is  de  reason  he 
ain't  let  'im  go  in  'long  wid  'im. 

"  Brer  Rabbit,  he  vow,  he  did,  dat  he  'spected 
any  gump  'ud  know  dat  somebody  got  ter  stay 
outside  en  watch  w'iles  de  yuther  one  wuz  on  de 
inside.  Brer  Wolf  say  he  ain't  thunk  er  dat,  en 
den  he  ax  Brer  Rabbit  fer  ter  let  'im  in,  en  please 


ii4     HOW   BLACK   SNAKE   CAUGHT   THE   WOLF 

be  so  good  ez  ter  stay  out  dar  en  watch  w'iles  he 
git  some  er  de  goodies. 

11  Wid  dat  Brer  Rabbit,  he  sung  de  song: 

"  '  Watsilla,   vvatsilla, 
Consario  wo ! 
Watsilla,  watsilla, 
Consario  wo  !  ' 

"  He  sung  de  song,  he  did,  en  de  door  flew'd 
open,  en  Brer  Wolf  he  lipt  in,  en  gun  ter  gobble 
up  de  goodies.  Brer  Rabbit,  he  stayed  outside, 
en  make  like  he  gwine  ter  watch.  Brer  Wolf,  he 
e't  en  e't,  en  he  keep  on  a-eatin'.  Brer  Rabbit, 
he  tuck  en  stan'  off  in  de  bushes,  en  bimeby  he 
year  Mr.  Black  Snake  a-slidin'  thoo  de  grass. 
Brer  Rabbit,  he  ain't  say  nothin\  He  'low  ter 
hisse'f,  he  did,  dat  he  was  dar  ter  watch,  en  dat 
w'at  he  gwine  ter  do  ef  de  good  Lord  spar'  'im. 
So  he  set  dar  en  watch,  en  Mr.  Black  Snake,  he 
come  a-slidin'  up  ter  de  house  en  sing  de  song, 
(  n  den  de  door  flew'd  open  en  in  he  went. 

11  Brer  Rabbit  set  dar  en  watch  so  hard,  he  did, 
dat  it  look  like  he  eyes  gwine  to  pop  out.  'T  want 
long  To'  he  year  sump'n  'n'er  like  a  scuttle  gwine 
on  in  de  poplar-true,  en,  fus'  news  you  know,  Brer 
Wolf  come  tumberlin'  out.      IK;  come  tumberlin' 


;'  :  -  -•'(■'■.  VI,'' .'■■,.  .':■>, 


W&tff*       " 


EN    EVE'V   TIME   HE   SWUNG   MR.    BLACK   SNAKE   TUCK   >N   LASH    1M 
K™  WID   HE   TAIL." 


HOW   BLACK    SNAKE   CAUGHT   THE   WOLF      117 

out,    he   did,   en   down   he   fell,    kaze    Mr.    Black 
Snake  eot  'im  tie  hard  en  fas'  so  he  ain't  kin  run. 
"Den,  atter  so  long  a  time,  Mr.  Black  Snake 
tuck  'n  tie  Brer  Wolf  up   ter  a  lim',  en  dar  dat 
creetur  swung  'twixt  de  hevin  en  de  yeth.      He 
swung  en  swayed,  en  eve'y  time  he  swung  Mr. 
Black  Snake  tuck  'n  lash  'im  wid  he  tail,  en  eve'y 
time  he  lash  'im  Brer  Rabbit  holler  out,  he  did : 
"  '  Sarve  'im  right !  sarve  'im  right ! ' 
"  En  I  let  you  know,"  said  the  old  man,  refill- 
ing his  pipe,  "  dat  w'en  Mr.  Black  Snake  git  thoo 
wid  dat  creetur,  he  ain't  want  no  mo'  goodies." 


WHY    THE     GUINEAS     STAY    AWAKE 

ONE  night  when  the  little  boy  was  waiting  pa- 
tiently for  Uncle  Remus  to  tell  him  a  story, 
the  guineas  began  to  scream  at  a  great  rate,  and 
they  kept  it  up  for  some  time. 

"Ah,  Lord!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Remus,  blow- 
ing the  ashes  from  a  sweet  potato  that  had  been 
roasting  in  the  embers.  "Ah,  Lord!  dem  ar 
creeturs  is  mighty  kuse  creeturs.  I  boun'  you 
ef  you  go  up  dar  whar  dey  is  right  now,  you  '11 
fin'  some  kind  er  varmint  slippin'  'roun'  und'  de 
bushes.  Hit  mout  be  ole  Brer  Fox.  I  won't  say 
p'intedly  dat  it  \s  Brer  Fox,"  the  old  man  continued, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  is  willing  to  assert  only 
what  he  can  prove,  "  yit  it  mout  be.  But  ne'er 
rniii' 'bout  dat;  Brer  Fox  er  no  Brer  Fox,  dem 
guinea  hens  ain't  gwinfi  ter  be  kotch.  De  var- 
ments kin  creep  up  en  slip  up  ex  de  case  may  be, 
but  dey  ain't  gwine  to  slip  up  eu  ketch  dem  cree- 
turs asleep." 


WHY   THE   GUINEAS   STAY   AWAKE  119 

"  Don't  the  guineas  ever  sleep,  Uncle  Remus  ?  " 
the  little  boy  inquired.    His  curiosity  was  whetted. 

"  Oh,  I  'speck  dey  does  sleep,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "  Yasser,  dey  er  bleege  ter  sleep,  but  dey 
ain't  bin  kotch  at  it — leastways,  dey  aint  bin 
kotch  at  it  not  sence  Brer  Fox  crope  up  on 
urn  long  time  ago.  He  kotch  um  a-snorin'  den, 
but  he  ain't  kotch  um  sence,  en  he  ain't  gwine 
kotch  um  no  mo'. 

"  You  may  go  ter  bed  now,"  Uncle  Remus  went 
on,  in  a  tone  calculated  to  carry  conviction  with 
it,  "you  may  go  ter  bed  en  go  ter  sleep  right 
now,  but  wake  up  w'enst  you  will  en  you  '11  year 
dem  guineas  a-cacklin'  en  a  confabbin'  out  dar 
des  same  ez  ef  't  wuz  broad  daylight.  Seem  like 
dey  ain't  gwine  ter  fergit  de  time  w'en  Brer  Fox 
crope  up  on  um,  en  kotch  um  'sleep." 

"When  was  that,  Uncle  Remus?"  the  little 
boy  asked,  as  he  settled  himself  in  the  split-bot- 
tom chair  in  anticipation  of  a  story. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  man,  noticing  the  move- 
ment, "you  nee'n  ter  primp  yo'se'f  fer  no  great 
long  tale,  honey,  kaze  dish  yer  tale  ain't  skacely 
long  nuff  fer  ter  tie  a  snapper  on.  Yit  sech  es  't 
is  you  er  mo'  dan  welcome. 

"  One  time  'way  long  back  yander  dem  guineas 
wuz  des  ez  drowsy  w'en  night  come  ez  any  er  de 


120  WHY   THE   GUINEAS   STAY   AWAKE 

yuther  folks.  Dey  'd  go  ter  roos',  dey  would, 
en  dey  'd  drap  off  ter  sleep  time  der  head  totch 
de  piller." 

"The  pillow,  Uncle  Remus!"  exclaimed  the 
little  boy. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man,  rubbing  his  hand 
over  his  weatherbeaten  face  to  hide  a  smile, 
"hit  's  all  de  same.  In  dem  days  dey  could  'a' 
had  pillers  ef  dey  'd  a- wanted  urn,  en  bolsters,  too, 
fer  dat  matter,  en  likewise  fedder-beds,  kaze  dey 
would  n't  'a'  had  ter  go  no  fur  ways  fer  de  fedders. 

"But  ne'er  mind  'bout  dat;  no  sooner  did  dey 
git  up  on  de  roos'  dan  dey  drap  off  ter  sleep,  en  dey 
kep'  on  dat  away  twel  bimeby  one  time  Brer  Fox 
made  up  he  min'  dat  he  better  be  kinder  sociable 
en  pay  um'a  call  atter  dey  done  gone  ter  bed. 

"  Dar  wuz  times,"  continued  Uncle  Remus,  as 
if  endeavoring  to  be  perfectly  fair  and  square  to 
all  the  parties  concerned,  "  w'en  Brer  Fox  tuck 
a  notion  fer  ter  walk  'bout  in  de  daytime,  but 
mos'  allers  inginer'lly  he  done  he  pomernadin' 
'twix'  sundown  en  sun-up.  I  dunner  w'at  time 
er  night  hit  wuz  w'en  Brer  Fox  call  on  de  guin- 
eas, but  I  speck  't  wuz  long  todes  de  shank  er  de 
evenin',  ez  you  may  say. 

"Yit,  soon  er  late,  w'en  he  got  ter  whar  de 
guineas   live   at,   he   foun'    um   all    soun'   asleep. 


WHY   THE   GUINEAS   STAY   AWAKE  121 

Now,  some  folks  w'en  dey  go  anywhars  fer  ter 
make  deyse'f  sociable,  en  fin'  eve'ybody  fas'  asleep, 
would  a'  tu'n  'roun'  en  made  der  way  back  home; 
but  Brer  Fox  ain't  dat  kind  er  man.  Dem  guin- 
eas roos'  so  low  en  dey  look  so  fine  en  fat  dat  it 
make  Brer  Fox  feel  like  dey  wuz  his  fus'  cousin. 

"  He  sot  down  on  his  hunkers,  Brer  Fox  did, 
en  he  look  at  um  en  grin.  Den  he  'low  ter  his- 
se'f: 

"  '  I  '11  des  shake  han's  wid  one  un  um  en  den 
I  '11  go.' 

"Well,"  continued  Uncle  Remus,  "  Brer  Fox 
went  up  en  shuck  han's  wid  one  un  um,  en  he 
must  V  squoze  mighty  hard,  kaze  de  guinea 
make  a  mighty  flutterment ;  en  he  mus'  'a'  helt 
on  wid  a  mighty  tight  grip,  kaze  w'en  he  tuck 
off  his  hat  en  bowed  good-by  de  guinea  went 
'long  wid  'im. 

"  Well,  suh,"  said  the  old  man  solemnly,  "you 
never  is  year  tell  er  sech  a  racket  ez  dem  guineas 
kicked  up  w'en  dey  'skiver  dat  Brer  Fox  done 
make  off  wid  one  un  um.  Dey  squall  en  dey 
squall  twel  dey  rousted  up  de  whole  neighbor- 
hoods. De  dogs  got  ter  barkin',  de  owls  got  ter 
hootin',  de  hosses  got  ter  kickin',  de  cows  got  ter 
lowin',  en  de  chickens  got  ter  crowin'. 

"En   mo'  dan  dat,"  Uncle  Remus  continued, 


122  WHY   THE   GUINEAS   STAY   AWAKE 

"de  guineas  wuz  dat  skeered  dat  dey  tu'n  right 
pale  on  de  neck  en  on  de  gills,  en  ef  you  don't 
b'lieve  me  you  kin  go  up  dar  in  de  gyarden  en 
look  at  um  fer  yo'se'f." 

But  the  little  boy  had  no  idea  of  going.  He 
saw  by  Uncle  Remus's  air  of  preoccupation  that 
the  story  was  not  yet  concluded. 

"  En  mo'  dan  dat,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a 
short  pause,  "dey  got  skeerd  so  bad  dat  from 
dat  day  ter  dis  dey  don't  sleep  soun'  at  night. 
Dey  may  squat  'roun'  in  de  shade  en  nod  in  de 
daytime,  dough  I  ain't  kotch  um  at  it,  en  dey  may 
sort  er  nod  atter  dey  go  ter  roos'  at  night ;  but 
ef  a  betsey  bug  flies  by  um,  er  yit  ef  a  sparrer 
flutters  in  de  bushes,  dey  er  wide  awake ;  dey 
mos'  sholy  is. 

"  Hit  seem  like  ter  me,"  Uncle  Remus  contin- 
ued, "  dat  dey  mus'  be  ha'nted  in  der  dreams  by 
ole  Brer  Fox,  kaze  all  times  er  night  you  kin 
year  um  gwine  on  : 

" ' L-o-o-o-o-k,  look,  look!  Dar  he  is,  dar  he 
is  /     Go  'way,  go  'way  /  ' 

"Some  folks  sav  dat  dey  holler,  '  Pot-rack  I 
pot-rack !*  but  dem  w'at  talk  dat  away  is  mostly 
w'ite  folks,  en  dey  ain't  know  nuthin'  't  all  'bout 
dem  ole  times.  Mars  John  on  Miss  Sally  mout 
know,  but  efdey  does  1  ain't  year  um  sesso." 


HOW   THE    TERRAPIN    WAS    TAUGHT 
TO    FLY 

UNCLE  REMUS  had  the  weakness  of  the 
genuine  story-teller.  When  he  was  in  the 
humor,  the  slightest  hint  would  serve  to  remind 
him  of  a  story,  and  one  story  would  recall  an- 
other. Thus,  when  the  little  boy  chanced  to 
manifest  some  curiosity  in  regard  to  the  whip- 
poorwill,  which,  according  to  an  old  song,  had 
performed  the  remarkable  feat  of  carrying  the 
sheep's  corn  to  mill,  the  old  man  took  great  pains 
to  describe  the  bird,  explaining,  in  his  crude  way, 
how  it  differed  from  the  chuckwill's-widow,  which 
is  frequently  mistaken  for  the  whippoorwill,  es- 
pecially in  the  South.  Among  other  things, 
he  told  the  child  how  the  bird  could  fly  through' 
the  darkness  and  flap  its  wings  without  making 
the  slightest  noise. 

The  little  boy  had  a  number  of  questions  to  ask 
about  this,  and  the  talk  about  flying  reminded 
Uncle  Remus  of  a  story.      He  stopped  short  in 


124  HOW   THE  TERRAPIN  WAS  TAUGHT  TO   FLY 

his  explanations  and  began  to  chuckle.  The 
little  boy  asked  him  what  the  matter  was. 

"Shoo,  honey!"  said  the  old  man,  "w'en  you 
git  ole  ez  I  is,  en  yo'  'membunce  cropes  up  en 
tickles  you,  you  '11  laugh  too,  dat  you  will.  Talk- 
in'  all  'bout  dish  yer  flyin'  business  fotch  up  in 
my  min'  de  time  w'en  ole  Brer  Tarrypin  boned 
ole  Brer  Buzzard  fer  ter  Tarn  him  how  ter  fly. 
He  got  atter  'im,  en  he  kep'  atter  'im  ;  he  begged 
en  'swaded,  en  'swaded  en  he  begged.  Brer  Buz- 
zard tole  'im  dat  dey  wuz  mos'  too  much  un  'im  in 
one  place,  but  Brer  Tarrypin,  he  des  kep  on  atter 
'im,  en  bimeby  Brer  Buzzard  'low  dat  ef  nothin' 
else  ain't  gwine  do  'im,  he  '11  des  whirl  in  en  gin  'im 
some  lessons  in  flying  fer  ole  'quaintance  sakes. 

"  Dis  make  ole  Brer  Tarrypin  feel  mighty 
good,  en  he  say  he  ready  fer  ter  begin  right  now, 
but  Brer  Buzzard  say  he  ain't  got  time  des  den, 
but  he  '11  be  sho'  en  come  'roun'  de  nex'  day  en 
gin  ole  Brer  Tarrypin  de  fus'  lesson. 

"  Ole  Brer  Tarrypin,  he  sot  dar  en  wait,  he 
did,  en  dough  he  nodded  yer  en  dar  thro'  de 
night,  hit  look  like  ter  'im  dat  day  ain't  never 
gwine  ter  come.  He  wait  en  he  wait,  he  did,  but 
bimeby  de  sun  riz,  en  't  want  so  mighty  long  atter 
dat  To'  yer  come  Brer  Buzzard  sailin'  'long.      He 


HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS   TAUGHT  TO  FLY  125 

sailed  'roun'  en  'roun',  en  eve'y  time  he  sail  'roun' 
he  come  lower,  en  atter  w'ile  he  lit. 

"  He  lit,  he  did,  en  pass  de  time  er  day  wid 
Brer  Tarrypin  en  ax  'im  is  he  ready.  Brer  Tarry- 
pin  'low  he  been  ready  too  long  ter  talk  'bout,  en 
wen  Brer  Buzzard  year  dis,  he  tuck  'n  squot  in 
de  grass  en  ax  Brer  Tarrypin  fer  ter  crawl  upon 
he  back.  But  Brer  Buzzard  back  mighty  slick, 
en  de  mo'  Brer  Tarrypin  try  fer  ter  crawl  up,  de 
mo'  wa'l  he  slip  back.  But  he  tuck  n  crawl  up 
atter  w'ile,  en  w'en  he  git  sorter  settled  down,  he 
'lo-w,  he  did : 

"  '  You  kin  start  now,  Brer  Buzzard,  but  you  '11 
hatter  be  mighty  keerful  not  ter  run  over  no 
rocks  en  stumps,  kaze  ef  dish  yer  waggin  gits  ter 
joltin',  I  'm  a  goner,'  sezee. 

"Brer  Buzzard,  he  tuck  'n  start  off  easy,  en  he 
move  so  slick  en  smoove  en  swif  dat  Brer  Tarry- 
pin laugh  en  'low  dat  he  ain't  had  no  sech  sweet 
ridin'  sence  he  crossed  de  river  in  a  flat.  He  sail 
'roun'  en  'roun',  he  did,  en  gun  Brer  Tarrypin  a 
good  ride,  en  den  bimeby  he  sail  down  ter  de 
groun'  en  let  Brer  Tarryin  slip  off  'n  he  back. 

"  Nex'  day  he  come  'roun'  agin,  ole  Brer  Buz- 
zard did,  en  gun  Brer  Tarrypin  'n'er  good  ride, 
en  de  nex'  day  he  done  de  same,  en  he  keep  on 


126  HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS   TAUGHT  TO  FLY 

doin'  dis  away,  twel  atter  w'ile  Brer  Tarrypin  got 
de  consate  dat  he  kin  do  some  fly'n'  on  he  own 
hook.  So  he  up  en  ax  Brer  Buzzard  for  call 
'roun'  one  mo'  time,  en  gin  'im  a  good  start." 

Here  Uncle  Remus  paused  to  chuckle  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  went  on  — 

"  Gentermens  !  It  tickles  me  eve'y  time  it  come 
in  my  min',  dat  it  do!  Well,  sir,  ole  Brer  Buz- 
zard wuz  dat  full  er  rascality  dat  he  ain't  got  no 
better  sense  dan  ter  come,  en  de  nex'  day  he  sail 
up,  he  did,  bright  en  yearly.  He  lit  on  de  grass, 
en  ole  Brer  Tarrypin,  he  crope  up  on  he  back, 
en  den  Brer  Buzzard  riz.  He  riz  up  in  de  ele- 
ments, now,  en  w'en  he  git  up  dar  he  sorter 
fetched  a  flirt  en  a  swoop  en  slid  out  from  under 
Brer  Tarrypin. 

"  Ole  Brer  Tarrypin,  he  flapped  he  foots  en 
watered  he  head  en  shuck  he  tail,  but  all  dis  ain't 
done  no  good.  He  start  off  right-side  up,  but  he 
ain't  drap  fur,  'fo'  he  'gun  ter  turn  somersets  up 
dar,  en  down  he  come  on  he  back  —  kerb  lam  — 
m  —  m — /  En  ef  it  had  n't  but  er  bin  fer  de 
strenk  er  he  shell,  he  'd  er  got  bust  wide  open. 
He  lay  dar,  ole  Brer  Tarrypin  did,  en  try  ter 
ketch  lie  breffj  en  he  groan  en  he  pant  like  eve'y 
minnit  gwine  ter  be  nex'. 

"  Ole  Brer   Buzzard,   he  sail  'roun',  he  did,  en 


%m 


urn     e&&^ 


BRER    TARRYPIN,    HOW    YOU    FEEL 


HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS   TAUGHT  TO  FLY  129 

look  at  Brer  Tarrypin,  en  bimeby  he  lit  fer  ter 
make  inquirements. 

"  '  Brer  Tarrypin,  how  you  feel?'  sezee. 

"  '  Brer  Buzzard,  I  'm  teetotally  mint,'  sezee. 

"  'Well,  Brer  Tarrypin,  I  tole  you  not  ter  try 
ter  fly,'  sezee. 

"  '  Hush  up,  Brer  Buzzard!'  sezee;  'I  flew'd 
good  ez  anybody,  but  you  fergot  ter  l'arn  me 
how  ter  light.  Flyin'  is  easy  as  fallin',  but  I 
don't  speck  I  kin  l'arn  how  ter  light,  en  dat  's  whar 
de  trouble  come  in,'  sezee." 

Uncle  Remus  laughed  as  heartily  at  the  result 
of  Brother  Terrapin's  attempts  to  fly  as  if  he  had 
heard  of  them  for  the  first  time ;  but  before  the 
little  boy  could  ask  him  any  questions,  he  re- 
marked : 

11  Well,  de  goodness  en  de  gracious  !  dat  put 
me  in  min'  er  de  time  w'en  ole  Brer  Rabbit  make 
a  bet  wid  Brer  Fox." 

"  How  was  that,  Uncle  Remus  ?  "  the  child  in- 
quired. 

"  Ef  I  ain't  make  no  mistakes,"  responded  Un- 
cle Remus,  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  willing 
to  sacrifice  everything  to  accuracy,  "  ole  Brer 
Rabbit  bet  Brer  Fox  dat  he  kin  go  de  highest  up 
in  de  elements,  en  not  clam  no  holler  tree  nud- 
der.  Brer  Fox,  he  tuck  'im  up,  en  dey  'pinted  de 
day  fer  de  trial  ter  come  off. 


130  HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS   TAUGHT  TO  FLY 

"  Wiles  dey  wuz  makin'  all  der  'rangerments, 
Brer  Fox  year  talk  dat  Brer  Rabbit  have  done 
gone  en  hire  Brer  Buzzard  fer  ter  tote  'im  way 
'bove  de  tops  er  de  trees.  Soon  's  he  year  dis, 
Brer  Fox  went  ter  Brer  Buzzard,  he  did,  en  tole 
'im  dat  he  gin  'im  a  pot  er  gol'  ef  he  'd  whirl  in 
en  kyar  Brer  Rabbit  clean  out  'n  de  county. 
Brer  Buzzard  'low  dat  he  wuz  de  ve'y  man  fer  ter 
do  dat  kind  er  bizness. 

"  So  den  w'en  de  time  come  fer  de  trial,  Brer 
Fox,  he  wuz  dar,  en  Brer  Rabbit,  he  wuz  dar,  en 
Brer  Buzzard,  he  wuz  dar,  en  lots  er  de  yuther 
creeturs.  Dey  flung  cross  en  piles  fer  ter  see 
w'ich  gwine  ter  start  fus',  en  it  fell  ter  Brer  Fox. 
He  look  'roun',  old  Brer  Fox  did,  en  wink  at 
Brer  Buzzard,  an  Brer  Buzzard,  he  wink  back 
good  ez  he  kin.  Wid  dat,  Brer  Fox  tuck  a  run- 
nin'  start  en  clam  a  leanin'  tree.  Brer  Rabbit 
say  dat  better  dan  he  'spected  Brer  Fox  kin  do, 
but  he  'low  he  gwine  ter  beat  dat.  Den  he  tuck 
'n  jump  on  Brer  Buzzard  back,  en  Brer  Buzzard 
riz  en  sail  off  wid  'im.  Brer  Fox  laugh  w'en  he 
see  dis,  en  'low,  sezee  : 

"  4  Folks,  ef  you  all  got  any  intruss  in  ole  Brer 
Rabbit,  you  des  better  tell  'im  good-by,  kaze  you 
won't  see  'im  no  mo'  in  dese  diggin's.' 

"  Dis  make  all  de  yuther  creeturs  feel  mighty 


HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS   TAUGHT  TO  FLY  131 

good,  kaze  in  dem  days  ole  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  a 
tarrifier,  dat  he  wuz.  But  dey  all  sot  dar,  dey  did, 
en  keep  der  eye  on  Brer  Buzzard,  w'ich  he  keep 
on  gittin'  higher  en  higher,  en  littler  en  littler. 
Dey  look  en  dey  look,  en  bimeby  dey  sorter  see 
Brer  Buzzard  flop  fus'  one  wing,  en  den  de  yuther. 
He  keep  on  floppin'  dis  away,  en  eve'y  time  he 
flop,  he  git  nigher  en  nigher  de  groun'.  He  flop 
en  fall,  en  flop  en  fall,  en  circle  'roun',  en  bimeby 
he  come  close  ter  de  place  whar  he  start  fum,  en 
him  en  Brer  Rabbit  come  down  ker-flip !  En 
Brer  Rabbit  ain't  no  sooner  hit  de  groun'  dan  he 
rush  off  in  de  bushes,  en  sot  dar  fer  ter  see  w'at 
gwine  ter  happen  nex'." 

"But,  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  little  boy,  "why 
did  n't  Brother  Buzzard  carry  Brother  Rabbit  off, 
and  get  the  pot  of  gold  ?  " 

"  Bless  yo'  soul,  honey,  dey  wuz  some  mighty 
good  reasons  in  de  way!  Wen  ole  Brer  Buzzard 
got  'way  up  in  de  elements,  he  'low,  he  did : 

"  '  We  er  gwine  on  a  mighty  long  journey,  Brer 
Rabbit.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  he  laugh  like  a  man  w'at's 
a-drivin'  a  plow-hoss  wid  a  badoon  bit. 

"  You  may  be  a-gwine  on  a  long  journey,  Brer 
Buzzard;  I  don't  'spute  dat,'  sezee,  'but  it'll  be  atter 
you  done  kyar'd  me  back  whar  we  start  fum.' 


132  HOW  THE  TERRAPIN  WAS  TAUGHT  TO  FLY 

"  Den  Brer  Buzzard  he  up  en  tell  Brer  Rabbit 
'bout  de  bargain  he  done  make  wid  Brer  Fox. 
Dis  make  Brer  Rabbit  laugh  wuss  'n  befo'. 

"  '  Law,  Brer  Buzzard',  sezee,  '  w'en  it  come  ter 
makin'  dat  kinder  bargain,  you  oughter  make  it 
wid  me,  kaze  I  'm  a  long  ways  a  better  trader  dan 
w'at  Brer  Fox  is.' 

"  Brer  Buzzard  he  don't  'spon'  ter  dat,  but  he 
keep  on  flyin'  higher  en  higher,  en  furder  en  furder 
away.  Bimeby  Brer  Rabbit  'gun  ter  git  kinder 
oneasy,  en  he  'low : 

"  'Look  like  ter  me  we  done  cot  fur  'nuff,  Brer 
Buzzard,'  sezee,  'en  I  '11  be  mighty  much  erbleege 
ef  you  kyar  me  back.' 

"  Brer  Buzzard  keep  on  flyin'  furder.  Bimeby 
Brer  Rabbit  ax  'im  ag'in,  but  Brer  Buzzard  keep 
on  flyin'  furder.  Den  ole  Brer  Rabbit  he  'low, 
sezee : 

" '  Ef  I  got  ter  des  nat'ally  make  you  go  back, 
I  speck  I  better  start  in  right  now,'  sezee. 

"Wid  dat  Brer  Rabbit  retch  down,  he  did,  en 
bit  Brer  Buzzard  under  de  wing." 

The  little  boy  clapped  his  hands  and  laughed 
at  this,  and  Uncle  Remus  laughed  in  sympathy. 

"  Yesser,"  the  old  man  went  on,  "ole  Brer 
Rabbit  retch  down  en  bit  Brer  Buzzard  under  de 
wing,  right  spang  in  he  most  ticklish  en  tender- 


HOW  THE  TERRAPIN   WAS  TAUGHT  TO  FLY  133 

some  spot.  Co'se  dis  make  Brer  Buzzard  shet 
he  wing  quick,  en  w'en  he  shet  he  wing,  he  bleedge 
ter  fall  some.  Den  w'en  he  open  de  wing  out 
en  ketch  hisse'f,  Brer  Rabbit  holler  out : 
"  '  Is  you  gwine  back,  Brer  Buzzard  ?  ' 
"  Brer  Buzzard  ain't  say  nuthin',  en  den  Brer 
Rabbit  retch  down  en  bit  'im  under  de  yuther 
wing.  It  keep  on  dis  away  twel  it  got  so  dat 
Brer  Rabbit  kin  guide  Brer  Buzzard  along  des 
same  ez  ef  he  done  bin  broke  ter  harness,  en 
dat  's  de  way  he  made  'im  kyar  'im  back." 

The  little  boy  enjoyed  these  stories  very  much, 
and  was  very  sorry  to  see  that  Uncle  Remus 
was  not  in  the  humor  for  telling  any  more.  Per- 
haps his  store  was  exhausted.  At  any  rate,  the 
old  man  flatly  refused  to  cudgel  his  memory  for 
another  legend. 


THE  CREATURE  WITH  NO  CLAWS 

"TT7'EN   you  git  a  leetle  bit  older  dan  w'at 
VV     you  is,  honey,"  said  Uncle  Remus  to  the 
little  boy,  "you  '11  know  lots- mo'  dan  you  does 
now." 

The  old  man  had  a  pile  of  white  oak  splits  by 
his  side,  and  these  he  was  weaving  into  a  chair- 
bottom.  He  was  an  expert  in  the  art  of  "bot- 
toming chairs,"  and  he  earned  many  a  silver 
quarter  in  this  way.  The  little  boy  seemed  to 
be  much  interested  in  the  process. 

"  Hit  's  des  like  I  tell  you,"  the  old  man  went 
on  ;  "I  done  had  de  speunce  un  it.  I  done  got 
so  now  dat  I  don't  b'lieve  w'at  I  see,  much  less 
w'at  I  year.  It  got  tcr  be  whar  I  kin  put  my 
han'  on  it  en  fumble  wid  it.  Folks  kin  fool  dey- 
se'f  lots  wuss  dan  yuther  folks  kin  fool  urn,  en  ef 
you  don't  b'lieve  w'at  I  'm  a-tellin'  un  you,  you 
kin  des  ax  Brer  Wolf  de  nex'  time  you  meet  'im 
in  de  bier  road." 


THE    CREATURE   WITH   NO    CLAWS  135 

"What  about  Brother  Wolf,  Uncle  Remus?" 
the  little  boy  asked,  as  the  old  man  paused  to  re- 
fill his  pipe. 

"  Well,  honey,  't  ain't  no  great  long  rigamarole  ; 
hit  's  des  one  er  deze  yer  tales  w'at  goes  in  a  gal- 
lop twel  hit  gits  ter  de  jumpin'-off  place. 

"  One  time  Brer  Wolf  wuz  gwine  'long  de  big 
road  feelin'  mighty  proud  en  high-strung.  He 
wuz  a  mighty  high-up  man  in  dem  days,  Brer 
Wolf  wuz,  en  mos'  all  de  yuther  creeturs  wuz 
feard  un  'im.  Well,  he  wuz  gwine  'long  lickin' 
his  chops  en  walkin'  sorter  stiff-kneed,  w'en  he 
happen  ter  look  down  'pon  de  groun'  en  dar  he 
seed  a  track  in  de  san'.  Brer  Wolf  stop,  he  did, 
en  look  at  it,  en  den  he  'low : 

"  '  Heyo  !  w'at  kind  er  creetur  dish  yer  ?  Brer 
Dog  ain't  make  dat  track,  en  needer  is  Brer  Fox. 
Hit  's  one  er  deze  yer  kind  er  creeturs  w'at  ain't 
got  no  claws.  I  '11  des  'bout  foller  'im  up,  en  ef 
I  ketch  'im  he  '11  sholy  be  my  meat.' 

"  Dat  de  way  Brer  Wolf  talk.  He  followed 
'long  atter  de  track,  he  did,  en  he  look  at  it  close, 
but  he  ain't  see  no  print  er  no  claw'.  Bimeby  de 
track  tuck  'n  tu'n  out  de  road  en  go  up  a  dreen 
whar  de  rain  done  wash  out.  De  track  wuz  plain 
dar  in  de  wet  san',  but  Brer  Wolf  ain't  see  no 
sign  er  no  claws. 


136  THE   CREATURE    WITH    NO   CLAWS 

"  He  foller  en  foller,  Brer  Wolf  did,  en  de  track 
git  fresher  en  fresher,  but  still  he  ain't  see  no 
print  er  no  claw.  Bimeby  he  come  in  sight  er 
de  creetur,  en  Brer  Wolf  stop,  he  did,  en  look  at 
'im.  He  stop  stock-still  en  look.  De  creetur 
wuz  mighty  quare  lookin',  en  he  wuz  cuttin'  up 
some  mighty  quare  capers.  He  had  big  head, 
sharp  nose,  en  bob  tail,  en  he  wuz  walkin'  'roun' 
en  'roun'  a  big  dog-wood  tree,  rabbin'  his  sides 
ag'in  it.  Brer  Wolf  watch  'im  a  right  smart  while, 
en  den  he  'low : 

"  '  Shoo !  dat  creetur  done  bin  in  a  fiorht  en  los' 
de  bes'  part  er  he  tail,  en  mo'  'n  dat,  he  got  de 
eatch,  kaze  ef  he  ain't  got  de  eatch  w'at  make  he 
scratch  hisse'f  dat  away?  I  lay  I  '11  let  'im  know 
who  he  foolin'  'long  wid.' 

"Atter  while,  Brer  Wolf  went  up  a  leetle 
nigher  de  creetur,   en  holler  out : 

"  '  Heyo,  dar !  w'at  you  doin'  scratchin'  yo' 
scaly  hide  on  my  tree,  en  tryin'  fer  ter  break  hit 
down  ? ' 

"  De  creetur  ain't  make  no  answer.  He  des 
walk  'roun'  en  'roun'  de  tree  scratchin'  he  sides 
en  back.      Brer  Wolf  holler  out: 

"  *  I  lay  I  '11  make  you  year  me  ef  I  hatter  come 
dar  whar  you  is.' 

"  De  creetur  des  walk  'roun'  en  'roun'  de  tree, 


THE   CREATURE   WITH    NO   CLAWS  137 

en  ain't  make  no  answer.  Den  Brer  Wolf  hail 
'im  ag'in,  en  talk  like  he  mighty  mad : 

"  '  Ain't  you  gwine  ter  min'  me,  you  imperdent 
scoundul  ?  Ain't  you  gwine  ter  mozey  outer  my 
woods  en  let  my  tree  'lone  ? ' 

"  Wid  dat,  Brer  Wolf  march  todes  des  creetur 
des  like  he  gwine  ter  squ'sh  'im  in  de  groun'.  De 
creetur  rub  hisse'f  ag'in  de  tree  en  look  like  he 
feel  mighty  good.  Brer  Wolf  keep  on  gwine 
todes  'im,  en  bimeby  w'en  he  git  sorter  close  de 
creetur  tuck  'n  sot  up  on  his  behime  legs  des  like 
you  see  squir'ls  do.  Den  Brer  Wolf,  he  'low,  he 
did: 

"'Ah-yi!  you  beggin',  is  you?  But  't  ain't 
gwine  ter  do  you  no  good.  I  mout  er  let  you  off 
ef  you  'd  a-minded  me  w'en  I  fus'  holler  atter  you, 
but  I  ain't  gwine  ter  let  you  off  now.  I  'm 
a-gwine  ter  l'arn  you  a  lesson  dat  '11  stick  by 
you.' 

"  Den  de  creetur  sorter  wrinkle  up  his  face  en 
mouf,  en  Brer  Wolf  'low  : 

"  '  Oh,  you  neenter  swell  up  en  cry,  you  'ceit- 
ful  vilyun.  I  'm  a-gwine  ter  gi'  you  a  frailin'  dat 
I  boun'  yer  won't  forgit' 

"  Brer  Wolf  make  like  he  gwine  ter  hit  de 
creetur,  en  den " 

Here    Uncle    Remus    paused    and  looked    all 


138  THE    CREATURE    WITH    NO    CLAWS 

around  the  room  and  up  at  the  rafters.  When 
he  began  again  his  voice  was  very  solemn. 

"  Well,  suh,  dat  creetur  des  fotch  one  swipe 

dis  away,  en  'n'er  swipe  dat  away,  en  mos'  To' 
you  kin  wink  yo'  eye-balls,  Brer  Wolf  hide  wuz 
mighty  nigh  teetotally  tor'd  off  'n  'im.  Atter  dat 
de  creetur  sa'ntered  off  in  de  woods,  en  'gun  ter 
rub  hisse'f  on  'n'er  tree." 

"What  kind  of  a  creature  was  it,  Uncle  Re- 
mus ? "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  honey,"  replied  the  old  man  in  a  confi- 
dential whisper,  "hit  wa'n't  nobody  on  de  top- 
side er  de  yeth  but  ole  Brer  Wildcat." 


UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER   STORY 

THERE  was  one  story  that  the  little  boy  whom 
Uncle  Remus  delighted  to  entertain  asked 
for  with  great  regularity,  perhaps  because  it  has 
in  it  an  element  of  witchcraft,  and  was  as  marvel- 
ous as  it  was  absurd.  Sometimes  Uncle  Remus 
pretended  to  resent  this  continued  demand  for  the 
story,  although  he  himself,  like  all  the  negroes, 
was  very  superstitious,  and  believed  more  or  less 
in  witches  and  witchcraft. 

"  Dat  same  ole  tale,"  he  would  say.  "Well! 
well !  well !  W'en  is  we  gwine  ter  year  de  las'  un 
it  ?  I  done  tole  you  dat  tale  so  much  dat  it  make 
my  flesh  crawl,  kaze  I  des  know  dat  some  er  deze 
yer  lonesome  nights  I  '11  be  a-settin'  up  yer  by  de 
fier  atter  you  done  gone.  I  '11  be  a-settin'  up  yer 
dreamin'  'bout  gwine  ter  bed,  en  sumpin'  'n'er  '11 
come  a-clawin'  at  de  do',  en  I  '11  up  en  ax,  '  Who 
dat?'  En  dey  '11  up  en  'spon',  '  Lemme  in.'  En 
I  '11  ondo  de  do',  en  dat  ole  creetur  '11  walk  in,  en 
dat  '11  be  de  las'  er  po'  ole  Remus'     En  den  w'en 


140  UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER   STORY 

dat  come  ter  pass,  who  gwine  take  time  fer  ter 
tell  you  tales?     Dat  w'at  I  like  ter  know.' 

The  little  boy,  although  he  well  knew  that 
there  were  no  witches,  would  treat  this  statement 
with  gravity,  as  the  story  to  him  was  as  fascinat- 
ing as  one  of  the  "  Thousand  and  One  Nights." 

"Well,  Uncle  Remus,"  he  would  say,  "just  tell 
it  this  time!"  Whereupon  the  old  negro,  with  the 
usual  preliminary  flourishes,  began  : 

"  One  time,  'way  back  yander,  w'en  de  moon 
wuz  lots  bigger  dan  w'at  she  is  now,  dar  wuz  er 
ole  Witch-Wolf  livin'  'way  off  in  de  swamp,  en 
dish  yer  ole  Witch-Wolf  wuz  up  to  ter  all  sorts  er 
contrariness.  Look  like  she  wuz  cross-ways  wid 
de  whole  er  creation.  W'en  she  wa'n't  doin'  devil- 
ment, she  wuz  studyin'  up  devilment.  She  had  a 
mighty  way,  de  ole  Witch-Wolf  did,  dat  w'en  she 
git  hungry  she  'd  change  'erse'f  ter  be  a  'oman. 
She  could  des  shet  'er  eye  en  smack  'er  mouf,  en 
stiddier  bein'  a  big  black  wolf,  wid  long  claws  en 
green  eye-balls,  she  'd  come  ter  be  the  likelies' 
lookin'  gal  dat  you  mos'  ever  seed. 

"  It  seem  like  she  love  ter  eat  folks,  but  To'  she 
kin  eat  urn  she  hatter  marry  urn  ;  en  w'en  she 
take  a  notion,  she  des  change  'erse'f  ter  be  a  likely 
lookin'  gal,  en  sails  in  en  git  married.  Den  w'en 
she  do  dat,  she  des  take  en  change  'erse'f  back 


UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER    STORY  141 

ter  be  a  wolf,  en  eat  urn  up  raw.  Go  whar  you 
kin,  en  whar  you  mout,  en  yit  I  don't  'speck  you 
kin  fin'  any  wuss  creetur  dan  w'at  dis  ole  Witch- 
Wolf  wuz. 

"Well,  sir,  at  de  same  time  w'en  dis  ole  Witch- 
Wolf  gwine  on  dis  away,  dey  wuz  a  man  livin'  in 
de  neighborhood  w'at  she  took  a  mighty  notion 
fer  ter  marry.  De  man  had  Ian',  but  she  ain't 
want  de  Ian' ;  de  man  had  hosses,  but  she  ain't 
want  de  hosses ;  de  man  had  cows,  but  she  ain't 
want  de  cows.  She  des  nat'ally  want  de  man 
hisse'f,  kaze  he  mighty  fat  en  nice." 

"  Did  she  want  to  marry  him,  Uncle  Remus? " 
the  little  boy  asked,  as  though  the  tale  were  true, 
as  indeed  it  seemed  to  be  while  Uncle  Remus 
was  telling  it  and  acting  it. 

"Tooby  sho',  honey!  Dat  'zactly  w'at  she 
want.  She  want  ter  marry  'im,  en  eat  'im  up. 
Well,  den,  w'en  she  git  eve'ything  good  en  ready, 
she  des  tuck  'n  back  'er  years,  en  bat  'er  eyes,  en 
smack  'er  mouf,  and  dar  she  wuz — a  likely  young 
gal !  She  up  en  got  ter  de  lookin'-glass,  she  did, 
en  swinge  'er  ha'r  wid  de  curlin'-tongs,  en  tie 
ribbons  on  'er  cloze,  en  fix  up  'er  beau-ketchers. 
She  look  nice,  fit  ter  kill,  now.  Den  she  tuck  'n 
pass  by  de  man  house,  en  look  back  en  snicker, 
en  hoi'  'er  head  on  one  side,  en  sorter  shake  out 


142  UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER    STORY 

'er  cloze,  en  put  'er  han'  up  fer  ter  see  ef  de  ha'r- 
pins  in  der  place.  She  pass  by  dis  away  lots  er 
times,  en  bimeby  de  man  kotch  a  glimp'  un  'er ; 
en  no  sooner  is  he  do  dis  dan  she  wave  her  hank- 
cher.  De  man  he  watch  'er  en  watch  er,  en  bime- 
by, atter  she  kep'  on  whippin'  by,  he  come  out  en 
hail  'er.  En  den  she  tuck  'n  stop,  en  nibble  at  'er 
fan  en  fumble  wid  'er  hankcher,  en  dey  tuck  'n 
stan'  dar,  dey  did,  en  pass  de  time  er  day.  Atter 
dat  de  sun  never  riz  en  set  widout  she  hoi'  some 
confab  wid  de  man  ;  en  't  want  long  To'  de  man 
took  a  notion  dat  she  de  very  gal  fer  a  wife,  w'at 
he  bin  a-huntin'  fer.  Wid  dat  dey  des  got  right 
down  ter  ole-fashion  courtin'.  Dey  'd  laugh,  dey 
'd  giggle,  dey  'd  'spute,  dey  'd  pout.  You  ain't 
never  seen  folks  a-courtin',  is  you,  honey?" 

The  little  boy  never  had,  and  he  said  so. 

"Well,  den,"  Uncle  Remus  would  continue, 
"you  ain't  none  de  wuss  off  fer  dat,  kaze  dey 
ain't  nuthin'  in  de  roun'  worl'  dat  '11  turn  yo'  stom- 
ach quicker.  But  dar  dey  wuz,  en  de  ole  Witch - 
Wolf  make  sho'  she  wuz  gwine  ter  git  de  man  ; 
let  lone  dat,  de  man  he  make  sho'  he  wuz  gwine 
ter  git  de  gal.  Yit  de  man  he  belt  back,  en  ef  de 
Witch-Wolf  had  n't  er  bin  afcard  she  \1  drap  de 
fat  in  de  fier,  she  'd  er  des  come  right  out  en  pop 
de   question  den  en  dar.     But  de  man   he   helt 


UNCLE    REMUS'S    WONDER    STORY  143 

back  en  helt  back,  en  bimeby  he  say  ter  hisse'f, 
he  did,  dat  he  'speck  he  better  make  some  inquire  - 
ments  'bout  dis  yer  gal.     Yit  who  sh'll  he  go  ter? 

"  He  study  en  study,  en  atter  w'ile  hit  come 
'cross  he  min'  dat  he  better  go  en  ax  ole  Jedge 
Rabbit  'bout  'er,  bein'  ez  he  bin  livin'  'roun'  dar  a 
mighty  long  time. 

"Ole  Jedge  Rabbit,"  Uncle  Remus  would  ex- 
plain, "done  got  ole  in  age  en  gray  in  de  min'. 
He  done  sober  up  en  settle  down,  en  I  let  you 
know  dey  want  many  folks  in  dem  diggin's  but 
w'at  went  ter  ole  Jedge  Rabbit  w'en  dey  git  in 
trouble.  So  de  man  he  went  ter  Jedge  Rabbit 
house  en  rap  at  de  do'.  Jedge  Rabbit,  he  'low, 
he  did,  '  Who  dat  ? ' 

"  Man  he  up  en  'spon',  '  Hit  's  me.' 

"  Den  Jedge  Rabbit  'gin  ter  talk  like  one  er 
deze  yer  town  lawyers.  He  'low,  he  did,  '  Mighty 
short  name  fer  grown  man.  Gimme  de  full  en- 
titlements.' 

"Man  he  gun  um  ter  'im,  en  den  ole  Jedge 
Rabbit  open  de  do'  en  let  'im  in.  Dey  sot  dar  by 
de  fier,  dey  did,  twel  bimeby  't  want  long  To'  de 
man  'gun  ter  tell  'im  'bout  dish  yer  great  gal  w'at 
he  bin  courtin'  'long  wid.  Bimeby  Jedge  Rabbit 
ax  'im,  sezee,  '  W'at  dish  yer  great  gal  name  ? ' 

"Man  he  'low,  '  Mizzle-Mazzle.' 


144  UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER   STORY 

"Jedge  Rabbit  look  at  de  man  sort  er  like  he 
takin'  pity  on  'im,  en  den  he  tuk  he  cane  en  make 
a  mark  in  de  ashes.  Den  he  ax  de  man  how  ole 
is  dish  yer  great  gal.  Man  tol'  'im.  ;  Jedge  Rab- 
bit make  'n'er  mark  in  de  ashes.  Den  he  ax  de 
man  is  she  got  cat  eyes.  Man  sort  er  study  'bout 
dis,  but  he  say  he  'speck  she  is.  Jedge  Rabbit 
make  'n'er  mark.  Den  he  ax  is  'er  years  peaked 
at  de  top.  Man  'low  he  disremember,  but  he 
speck  dey  is.  Jedge  Rabbit  make  'n'er  mark  in 
de  ashes.  Den  he  ax  is  she  got  yaller  ha'r.  Man 
say  she  is.  Jedge  Rabbit  make  'n'er  mark.  Den 
he  ax  is  'er  toofs  sharp.  Man  say  dey  is.  Jedge 
Rabbit  make  'n'er  mark.  Atter  he  done  ax  all  dis, 
Jedge  Rabbit  got  up,  he  did,  en  went  'cross  de 
room  ter  de  lookin'-glass.  Wen  he  see  hisse'f 
in  dar,  he  tuck  'n  shet  one  eye,  s-l-o-w.  Den  he 
sot  down  en  leant  back  in  de  cheer,  en  'low,  sezee  : 

"  '  I  done  had  de  idee  in  my  head  dat  ole  Miz- 
zle-Mazzle  done  moof  out  'n  de  country,  en  yit 
yer  she  is  gallopin'  'roun'  des  ez  natchul  ez  a 
dead  pig  in  de  sunshine!' 

"Man  look  'stonish,  but  he  ain't  say  nuthin'. 
Jedge  Rabbit  keep  on  talkin'. 

"  'You  ain't  never  bin  trouble'  wid  no  trouble 
\  it,  but  ef  you  wan'  ter  be  trouble'  wid  trouble 
dat  \s  double  en  thribble  trouble,  you  des  go  en 


UNCLE   REMUS'S    WONDER    STORY  145 

marry  ole  Mizzle- Mazzle,'  sezee.  'You  nee'nter 
b'lieve  me  less  'n  you  wan'  ter,'  sezee.  '  Des  go 
'long  en  marry  'er,'  sezee. 

"  Man  he  look  skeerd.  He  up  en  'low,  he  did, 
'  Wat  de  name  er  goodness  I  gwine  do  ? ' 

"  Ole  Jedge  Rabbit  look  sollumcolly.  '  You 
got  any  cows  ? '  sezee. 

"  Man  say  he  got  plenty  un  um. 

"'Well,  den,' sez  ole  Jedge  Rabbit,  sezee,  'ax 
'er  ef  she  kin  keep  house.  She  '11  say  yasser. 
Ax  'er  ef  she  kin  cook.  She  '11  say  yasser.  Ax 
er  ef  she  kin  scour.  She  '11  say  yasser.  Ax 
'er  ef  she  kin  wash  cloze.  She  '11  say  yasser. 
Ax  'er  ef  she  kin  milk  de  red  cow.  Den  see 
w'at  she  say.' 

"  Man,  he  'low,  he  did,  dat  he  mighty  much 
erbleege  ter  ole  Jedge  Rabbit,  en  wid  dat  he 
make  he  bow  en  tuck  he  leaf.  He  went  home, 
he  did,  en  w'en  he  git  dar,  sho'  'nuff  dar  wuz 
dish  yer  nice-lookin'  gal  a  pommynadin'  up  en 
down  de  road,  en  shakin'  'er  hankcher.  Man, 
he  hail  'er,  he  did,  en  ax  'er  how  she  come  on. 
She  'low  she  purty  well,  en  how  do  he  do.  Man 
say  he  feelin'  sort  er  po'ly.  Den  she  up  en  ax 
'im  w'at  de  matter.  Man  say  he  'speck  he  feel 
po'ly  kaze  he  so  powerful  lonesome.  Den  dish 
yer  nice-lookin'  gal,  she  ax  'im  w'at  make  he  so 


146  UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER   STORY 

powerful  lonesome.  Man  he  say  he  'speck  he  so 
powerful  lonesome  kase  he  want  ter  marry. 

"Time  de  man  come  out  so  flat-footed  'bout 
marryin',  de  gal,  she  'gun  ter  work  wid  'er  fan, 
en  chaw  at  'er  hankcher.  Den,  atter  w'ile,  she 
up  en  ax  'im  who  he  wan'  ter  marry.  Man  'low 
he  ain't  no  ways  'tickler,  kase  he  des  want  some- 
body fer  ter  take  keer  er  de  house  w'en  he  gone, 
en  fer  ter  set  down  by  de  fier,  en  keep  'im  com- 
p'ny  w'en  he  at  home.  Den  he  up  en  ax  de  gal 
kin  she  keep  house.  De  gal  she  'low,  '  Yasser  ! ' 
Den  he  ax  'er  ef  she  kin  cook.  She  'low,  *  Yas- 
ser ! '  Den  he  ax  'er  ef  she  kin  scour.  She  'low, 
1  Yasser  !  '  Den  he  ax  'er  ef  she  kin  wash  cloze. 
She  'low,  '  Yasser ! '  Den  he  ax  'er  ef  she  kin 
milk  de  red  cow.  Wid  dat  she  flung  up  'er 
han's,  en  fetched  a  squall  dat  make  de  man  jump. 

"  '  Law  ! '  sez  she,  '  does  you  speck  I  'm  a-gwine 
ter  let  dat  cow  hook  me  ? ' 

"  Man,  he  say  de  cow  des  ez  gentle  ez  a  dog. 

"  *  Does  you  speck  I  'm  a-gwine  ter  let  dat  cow 
kick  me  crank-sided  ? '  sez  she. 

"  Man,  he  'low,  he  did,  dat  de  cow  wont  kick, 
but  dat  ar  gal  she  tuck  'n  make  mo'  skuses  dan 
dey  is  frogs  in  de  spring  branch,  but  bimeby  she 
say  she  kin  try.  But  she  'low  dat  fus'  'fo'  she  try 
dat  she  '11  show  'im  how  she  kin  keep  house.     So 


UNCLE   REMUS'S   WONDER    STORY  147 

the  nex'  mornin'  yer  she  come,  en  I  let  you  know 
she  sailed  in  dar,  en  sot  dat  house  ter  rights  'fo' 
some  wimmen  folks  kin  tun  'roun'.  Man,  he  say, 
he  did,  dat  she  do  dat  mighty  nice. 

"  Nex'  day,  de  gal  sot  in  en  got  dinner.  Man 
say,  he  did,  dat  dey  ain't  nobody  w'at  kin  beat 
dat  dinner.  Nex'  day,  she  sot  in  en  scoured,  en 
she  make  that  flo'  shine  same  ez  a  lookin'-elass. 
Man,  he  say  dey  ain't  nobody  in  dat  neighbor- 
hoods kin  beat  dat  scourin'.  Nex'  day,  she  come 
fer  ter  milk  de  red  cow,  en  de  man,  he  'low  ter 
hisse'f,  he  did,  dat  he  gwine  ter  see  w'at  make  she 
don't  like  ter  milk  dat  cow. 

"  De  gal  come,  she  did,  en  git  de  milk-piggin', 
en  scald  it  out,  en  den  she  start  fer  de  cow-lot. 
Man,  he  crope  'long  atter  de  gal  fer  ter  watch  'er. 
Gal  went  on,  en  w'en  she  come  ter  de  lot  dar  wuz 
de  red  cow  stan'in'  in  de  fence-cornder  wallopin' 
'er  cud.  Gal,  she  sorter  shuck  de  gate,  she  did, 
en  holler,  '  Sook,  cow  !  Sook,  cow  ! '  Cow,  she 
pearten  up  at  dat,  kaze  she  know  w'en  folks  call 
'er  dat  away,  she  gwine  ter  come  in  fer  a  bucket 
er  slops. 

"  She  pearten  up,  de  red  cow  did,  en  start  todes 
de  gate,  but,  gentermens !  time  she  smell  dat  gal, 
she  'gun  a  blate  like  she  smell  blood,  en  paw'd  de 
groun'  en  shuck  'er  head  des  like  she  fixin'  fer  ter 


H8  UNCLE  REMUS'S  wonder  story 

make  fight.  Man,  he  'low  ter  hisse'f  dat  dish 
yer  kinder  business  mighty  kuse,  en  he  keep  on 
watchin'.  Gal,  she  open  de  gate,  but  stiddier  de 
cow  makin'  fight,  she  'gun  ter  buck.  Gal,  she  say, 
'  So,  cow !  so,  cow,  so  ! '  but  de  cow  she  hist  her 
tail  in  de  elements,  en  run  'roun'  dat  lot  like  de 
dogs  wuz  atter  'er.  Gal,  she  foller  on,  en  hit 
sorter  look  like  she  gwine  ter  git  de  cow  hemmed 
up  in  a  cornder,  but  de  cow  ain't  got  no  notion  er 
dis,  en  bimeby  she  whirl  en  make  a  splunge  at  de 
gal,  en  ef  de  gal  had  n't  er  lipt  de  fence  quick  es 
she  did  de  cow  would  er  got  'er.  Ez  she  lipt  de 
fence,  de  man  seed  'er  foots,  en,  lo  en  beholes,  dey 
wuz  wolf  foots  !     Man,  he  holler  out : 

"'You  oughter  war  shoes  w'en  you  come 
a-milkin'  de  red  cow  ! '  en  wid  dat,  de  ole  Witch- 
Wolf  gun  a  twist,  en  fetched  a  yell,  en  made  er 
disappearance  in  de  elements." 

Here  Uncle  Remus  paused  awhile.  Then  he 
shook  his  head,  and  exclaimed : 

"*T  ain't  no  use!  Dey  may  fool  folks,  but  cows 
knows  wil'  creeturs  by  der  smell." 


THE  RATTLESNAKE  AND 
THE  POLECAT 

"  1  LAY  't  won't  be  long,"  said  Uncle  Remus, 
J.  as  the  little  boy  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the 
broad  fireplace,  "  'fo'  I  '11  hatter  put  on  a  back- 
log en  pile-  up  de  chunks.  Dem  w'at  gits  up 
'bout  de  crack  er  day  like  I  does  is  mighty  ap'  fer 
ter  fin'  de  a'r  sorter  fresh  deze  mornin's.  Fus' 
news  you  know  old  Jack  Frost  '11  be  a-blowin'  his 
horn  out  dar  in  de  woods,  en  he  '11  blow  it  so  hard 
dat  he  '11  jar  down  de  hick'ry-nuts,  de  scalybarks, 
de  chinkapins,  en  de  bullaces,  en  den  ole  Brer 
'Possum  will  begin  fer  ter  take  his  promenades, 
en  ef  I  don't  ketch  'im  hit  '11  be  kaze  I  'm  too  stiff 
in  my  j'ints  fer  ter  foller  'long  atter  de  dogs. 

"  Dish  yer  kinder  freshness  in  de  a'r  w'at  make 
yo'  breff  smoke  w'en  you  blow  it  outen  yo'  mouf," 
continued  Uncle  Remus,  "  puts  me  in  de  min'  er 
de  time  w'en  Brer  Polecat  wuz  a-huntin'  fer  a  new 
house.  De  wedder  wuz  gittin'  kinder  shivery,  en 
Brer  Polecat  he  sot  out  ter  fin'  a  good  warm  place 
whar  he  kin  stay  w'en  de  freeze  come  on. 


150   THE  RATTLESNAKE  AND  THE  POLECAT 

"  He  mozey  'long,  Brer  Polecat  did,  twel  he 
come  ter  Brer  Rattlesnake  house,  w'ich  it  wuz  in 
a  holler  tree.  Brer  Polecat  knock  at  de  do'. 
Brer  Rattlesnake  'low,  l  Who  dat  ? ' 

"  Brer  Polecat  'spon',  '  Hit 's  me  ;  open  de  do'.' 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  say,  '  Wat  you  want? ' 

"  Brer  Polecat  say,  '  Hit  mighty  cool  out  yer.' 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  'low,  '  Dat  w'at  I  year  folks 
say.' 

"  Brer  Polecat  up  en  'spon',  sezee,  '  Hit  too 
col'  fer  ter  stan'  out  yer.' 

"  '  Dat  w'at  I  year  tell,'  says  Brer  Rattlesnake, 
sezee. 

"  '  I  wanter  come  in  dar  whar  hit 's  warm,'  says 
Brer  Polecat,  sezee. 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  'low  dat  two  in  dat  house 
would  be  a  big  crowd. 

"  Brer  Polecat  say  he  got  de  name  er  bein'  a 
mighty  good  housekeeper. 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  say  hit  might)-  easy  ter 
anybody  fer  ter  keep  tother  folks'  house. 

"  Brer  Polecat  say  he  gwine  come  in  anyhow. 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  low,  '  Dey  ain't  no  room 
in  yer  fer  you.' 

"Brer  Polecat  laugh  en  say:  'Shoo,  Brer 
Rattlesnake!  eve'ybody  gives  me  room.  I  go 
'long  de  road,  I  does,  en  meet  Mr.  Man.      I  walks 


THE   RATTLESNAKE   AND    THE   POLECAT       151 

right  todes  'im,  en  he  bleege  ter  gi'  me  room.      I 

meet  all   de   critturs,    en  dey  bleege  ter  gi'  me 

room.' 

"  Brer  Rattlesnake  say,  '  Dat  w'at  I  year  tell.' 
"  Brer  Polecat  'low,  '  Don't  you  pester  yo'se'f 

'bout  room.     You  des  lemme  git  in  dar  whar  you 

is,  en  /  7/  make  room  !  ' 

"  Wid  dat  Brer  Rattlesnake  shot  de  do'  er  his 

house  en  sprung  de  latch,  en  atter  so  long  a  time 

Brer  Polecat  went  pacin'  offsome'rs  else." 


HOW    THE    BIRDS    TALK 

UNCLE  REMUS  was  not  a  "  field  hand"  ;  that 
is  to  say,  he  was  not  required  to  plow  and 
hoe  and  engage  in  the  rough  work  on  the  plan- 
tation. 

It  was  his  business  to  keep  matters  and  things 
straight  about  the  house,  and  to  drive  the  carriage 
when  necessary.  He  was  the  confidential  family 
servant,  his  attitude  and  his  actions  showing  that 
he  considered  himself  a  partner  in  the  various  in- 
terests of  the  plantation.  He  did  no  great  amount 
of  work,  but  he  was  never  wholly  idle.  He 
tanned  leather,  he  made  shoes,  he  manufactured 
horse-collars,  fish-baskets,  foot-mats,  scouring- 
mops,  and  ax-handles  for  sale;  he  had  his  own 
watermelon-  and  cotton-patches  ;  he  fed  the  hogs, 
looked  after  the  cows  and  sheep,  and,  in  short, 
was  the  busiest  person  on  the  plantation. 

lb-  was  reasonably  vain  of  his  importance,  and 
the  other  negroes  treated  him  with  great  con- 
sideration.    They  found  it  to  their  advantage  to 


HOW   THE   BIRDS    TALK  153 

do  so,  for  Uncle  Remus  was  not  without  influence 
with  his  master  and  mistress.  It  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  describe,  to  the  satisfaction  of  those  not 
familiar  with  some  of  the  developments  of  slavery 
in  the  South,  the  peculiar  relations  existing  be- 
tween Uncle  Remus  and  his  mistress,  whom  he 
called  "  Miss  Sally."  He  had  taken  care  of  her 
when  she  was  a  child,  and  he  still  regarded  her 
as  a  child. 

He  was  dictatorial,  overbearing  and  quarrel- 
some. These  words  do  not  describe  Uncle  Re- 
mus's  attitude,  but  no  other  words  will  do. 
Though  he  was  dictatorial,  overbearing  and  quar- 
relsome, he  was  not  even  grim.  Beneath  every- 
thing he  said  there  was  a  current  of  respect  and 
affection  that  was  thoroughly  understood  and  ap- 
preciated. All  his  quarrels  with  his  mistress 
were  about  trifles,  and  his  dictatorial  bearing  was 
inconsequential.  The  old  man's  disputes  with  his 
"  Miss  Sally  "  were  thoroughly  amusing  to  his 
master,  and  the  latter,  when  appealed  to,  generally 
gave  a  decision  favorable  to  Uncle  Remus. 

Perhaps  an  illustration  of  one  of  Uncle  Remus's 
quarrels  will  give  a  better  idea  than  any  attempt 
at  description.  Sometimes,  after  tea,  Uncle  Re- 
mus's master  would  send  the  house-girl  for  him, 
under  pretense  of  giving  him  orders  for  the  next 


154  HOW    THE   BIRDS   TALK 

day,  but  really  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  him 
quarrel.  The  old  man  would  usually  enter  the 
house  by  way  of  the  dining-room,  leaving  his  hat 
and  his  cane  outside.  He  would  then  go  to  the 
sitting-room  and  announce  his  arrival,  whereupon 
his  master  would  tell  him  what  particular  work 
he  wanted  done,  and  then  Uncle  Remus  would 
say,  very  humbly : 

"  Miss  Sally,  you  ain't  got  no  cold  vittles,  nor 
no  piece  er  pie,  nor  nuthin',  layin'  Youn'  yer,  is 
you  ?  Dat  ar  Tildy  gal  say  you  all  have  a 
mighty  nice  dinner  ter-day." 

"  No,  there  's  nothing  left.  I  gave  the  last  to 
Rachel." 

"  Well,  I  dunner  w'at  business  dat  ar  nigger  got 
comin'  up  yer  eatin'  Mars  John  out  er  house  en 
home.  I  year  tell  she  rarnin'  how  to  cook,  en 
goodness  knows,  ef  eatin'  gwine  ter  make  any- 
body cook  good,  she  de  bes'  cook  on  dis  hill." 

"Well,  she  earns  what  she  eats,  and  that  's  more 
than  I  can  say  for  some  of  the  others." 

"  I  lay  ef  ole  miss'  wuz  live,  she  'd  sen'  dat  ar 
nigger  ter  de  cotton-patch.  She  would,  mon  ; 
she  'd  sen'  er  dar  a-whirlin*.  Nigger  w'at  wrop 
up  'er  ha'r  wid  a  string  ain't  never  seed  de  day 
w'en  dey  kin  go  on  de  inside  er  ole  miss'  kitchen, 
let  'lone  mommuck  up  de  vittles.  Now,  I  boun' 
you  dat !  " 


HOW    THE   BIRDS   TALK  155 

"Well,  there  's  nothing  here  for  you,  and  if  there 
was  you  would  n't  get  it." 

"  No,  'm,  dat  's  so.  I  done  know  dat  long  time 
ago  .  All  day  long,  en  half  de  night,  hit 's  '  Remus, 
come  yer,'  en  '  Remus,  go  dar,'  'ceppin'  w'en  it  's 
eatin'-time,  en  w'en  dat  time  come,  dey  ain't  no- 
body dast  ter  name  de  name  er  Remus.  Dat 
Rachel  nigger  new  ter  de  business,  yet  she  mighty 
quick  fer  ter  l'arn  how  ter  tote  off  de  vittles,  en 
how  ter  make  all  de  chillun  on  de  place  do  'er 
er'ns." 

"  John,"  to  her  husband,  "  I  put  some  cold  po- 
tatoes for  the  children  on  the  sideboard  in  the 
dining-room.      Please  see  if  they  are  still  there." 

"  Nummine  'bout  gittin'  up,  Mars  John.  All 
de  taters  is  dar.  Old  Remus  ain't  never  'grudge 
w'at  dem  po'  little  chillun  gits.  Let  'lone  dat ; 
dey  comes  down  ter  my  house,  en  dey  looks  so 
puny  en  lonesome  dat  I  'vides  my  own  vittles  wid 
urn.  Goodness  knows,  I  don't  'grudge  de  po' 
creeturs  de  little  dey  gits.  Good-night,  Mars 
John  !     Good-night,  Miss  Sally  !  " 

"  Take  the  potatoes,  Remus,"  said  Mars  John. 

"I  'm  mighty  much  erbleege  ter  you,"  said  Uncle 
Remus,  putting  the  potatoes  in  his  pocket,  "en 
thanky  too  ;  but  I  ain't  gwine  ter  have  folks  sayin' 
dat  ole  Remus  tuck  'n  sneaked  up  yer  en  tuck  de 
vittles  out  er  deze  yer  chillun's  mouf,  dat  I  ain't." 


156  HOW   THE   BIRDS   TALK 

The  tone  In  which  Uncle  Renins  would  carry  on 
his  quarrels  was  inimitable,  and  he  generally  suc- 
ceeded in  having  his  way.  He  would  sometimes 
quarrel  with  the  little  boy  to  whom  he  told  the 
stories,  but  either  by  dint  of  coaxing,  or  by  means 
of  complete  silence,  the  youngster  usually  man- 
aged to  restore  the  old  man's  equanimity. 

"  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  boy,  "it  's  mighty 
funny  that  the  birds  and  the  animals  don't  talk 
like  they  used  to." 

"  Who  say  dey  don't  ?"  the  old  man  cried,  with 
some  show  of  indignation.  "  Who  say  dey  don't  ? 
Now,  dat  \s  des  w'at  I  'd  like  ter  know." 

Uncle  Remus's  manner  implied  that  he  was  only 
waiting  for  the  name  of  the  malicious  person  to  go 
out  and  brain  him  on  the  spot. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  child,  "I  often  listened  at 
them,  but  I  never  hear  them  say  a  word." 

"  Ah-yi !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Remus,  in  a  tone  of 
exultation ;  "dat 's  diffunt.  Now,  dat 's  diffunt  De 
creeturs  talk  des  'bout  like  dey  alius  did,  but  folks 
ain't  smart  ez  dey  used  ter  wuz.  You  kin  year 
de  creeturs  talkiu',  but  you  dunner  w'at  dey  say. 
Yit  I  boun'you  ef  I  wuz  ter  pick  you  up,  en  set 
you  down  iu  de  middle  er  de  Two-Mile  Swamp, 
you  '(1  year  talkiu'  all   night  long." 

The  little  boy  shivered  at  the  suggestion. 


HOW    THE   BIRDS   TALK  157 

"  Uncle  Remus,  who  talks  out  there  in  the 
swamp  ? " 

"  All  de  creeturs,  honey,  all  de  creeturs.  Mo' 
speshually  ole  man  Owl,  en  all  he  famberly  con- 
nexion." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  them,  Uncle  Remus?" 

"  Many  's  en  many  's  de  time,  honey.  Wen  I 
gits  lonesome  wid  folks,  I  des  up  en  takes  down 
my  walkin'  cane,  I  does,  en  I  goes  off  dar  whar  I 
I  kin  year  um,  en  I  sets  dar  en  feels  dez  es  fa- 
milious  ez  w'en  I  'm  a-settin'  yer  jawin'  'long  er 
you. 

"  What  do  they  say,  Uncle  Remus  ?  " 

"  It  seems  like  ter  me,"  said  the  old  man,  frown- 
ing, as  if  attempting  to  recall  familiar  names, 
"  dat  one  er  um  name  Billy  Big-Eye,  en  t'er  one 
name  Tommy  Long-Wing.  One  er  um  sets  in 
a  poplar-tree  on  one  side  er  de  swamp,  en  t'er 
one  sets  in  a  pine  on  t'er  side,"  Uncle  Remus 
went  on,  as  the  child  went  a  little  closer  to  him. 
"  W'en  night  come,  good  en  dark,  Billy  Big- Eye 
sorter  cle'r  up  he  th'oat  en  'low  : 

"'Torn/  Tommy  Long-  Wing !  Tom!  Tom- 
my Long-Wing !  '  " 

Uncle  Remus  allowed  his  voice  to  rise  and  fall, 
giving  it  a  far-away  but  portentous  sound,  the  in- 
tonation being  a  weirdly-exact  imitation  of  the 


158  HOW    THE   BIRDS   TALK 

hooting  of  a  large  swamp-owl.  The  italicized 
words  will  give  a  faint  idea  of  this  intonation. 

"  Den,"  Uncle  Remus  went  on,  "  ole  Tommy 
Long-Wing  he  'd  wake  up  en  holler  back  : 

"  '  Who  —  who  dat  a-ca/fm  ?  Who — who  dat 
a-callm  ? ' 

«  .  Bill—  Billy  Big-Eye  !  Bill—  Billy  Big- 
Eye!' 

"'  Why  lit  you  come  down — come  down  ter 
my  house  ? ' 

"'I  cood  rit — I  cood  rit  come  down  to  yd 
house !  ' 

"  '  Tom —  Tommy  Long-Wing  !  Why  cood  rii 
you  ? ' 

" '  Had  coompenny,  Bill —  Billy  Big-Eye  !  Had 
coompenny  ! ' 

"  '  Who  —  who  wuz  de  coompewny  ? ' 

u  '  Heel  Tap  'n  his  wife,  Dccl  Tap  'n  his  wife, 
en  I  don't  know  wAo-dll,  zuho-all,  who-d\\  !  ' 

"  Ez  ter  Heel  Tap  en  Deel  Tap,"  Uncle  Re- 
mus continued,  noticing  a  puzzled  expression  on 
the  child's  face,  "  I  dunno  ez  I  ever  bin  know  any- 
body edzackly  wid  dat  name.  Some  say  dat  's  de 
name  er  de  Peckerwoods  en  de  Yallerhammers, 
but  I  speck  w'en  we  git  at  de  straight  1111  it,  dey 
er  all  in  de  ( )wl  famberly." 

"  Who  heard  them  talking  that  way,  Uncle 
Remus?"  asked  the  little  boy. 


BILLY    BIG-EYE   AND    TOMMY    LONG-WING. 


HOW    THE    BIRDS    TALK  161 

"  Goodness  en  de  gracious,  honey  !  "  exclaimed 
Uncle  Remus,  "  you  don't  'speckt  er  ole  nigger 
like  I  is  fer  ter  note  all  deze  yer  folks'  name  in  he 
head,  does  you  ?  S'pose'n  de  folks  w'at  year  um 
done  gone  and  move  off,  w'at  good  it  gwine  do 
you  fer  ter  git  der  name  ?  S'pose'n  dey  wuz  set- 
tin'  right  yer  'long  side  er  you,  w'at  good  dat 
gwine  do  ?  De  trufe  's  de  trufe,  en  folks'  name 
ain't  gwine  make  it  no  trufer.  Yit  w'en  it  come 
ter  dat,  I  kin  go  ter  de  do'  dar,  en  fetch  a  whoop, 
en  fin'  you  lots  er  niggars  w'at  done  bin  year  dat 
Owl  famberly  gwine  on  in  de  swamp  dar.  En 
you  ne'en  ter  go  no  fudder  dan  Becky's  Bill,  nud- 
der.  W'en  dat  niggar  wuz  growin'  up,  he  went 
frolickin'  'roun',  en  one  night  he  come  froo  de 
Two- Mile  Swamp. 

''He  come  froo  dar,"  Uncle  Remus  went  on, 
emphasizing  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  by  a 
severe  frown,  "  des  ez  soople  in  de  min'  ez  w'at 
you  is  dis  blessid  minnit.  He  come  'long,  he  did, 
en  de  fus'  news  you  know  a  great  big  ole  owl 
flew'd  up  in  a  tree  en  snap  he  bill  des  like  some- 
body crackin'  a  whip.  Becky's  Bill  make  like  he 
ain't  take  no  notice,  but  he  sorter  men'  he  gait. 
Present'y,  ole  Mr.  Owl  flew'd  up  in  'n'er  tree 
little  ways  ahead,  en  smack  he  mouf.  Den 
he   holler   out : 

9 


162  HOW   THE   BIRDS   TALK 

"  '  Who  cooks  —  who  cooks  —  who  cooks  fer 
you  -all  ? ' 

"  Becky's  Bill  move  on — he  make  like  he  ain't 
year  nothing.      Ole  Mr.  Owl  holler  out : 

"  '  Who  cooks  —  who  cooks  —  who  cooks  fer 
you-2\\  ? ' 

"  By  dat  time  Becky's  Bill  done  git  sorter 
skeerd,  en  he  stop  en  say : 

"  '  Well,  sir,  endurin'  er  de  week,  mammy,  she 
cooks,  but  on  Sundays,  en  mo'  speshually  ef  dey 
got  comp'ny,  den  ole  Aunt  Dicey,  she  cooks.' 

"  Ole  Mr.  Owl,  he  ruffle  up  he  fedders,  he  did, 
en  smack  he  mouf,  en  look  down  at  Becky's  Bill, 
en  'low  : 

"  '  Who  cooks  —  who  cooks  —  who  cooks  fer 
you-a\\  ? ' 

"  Becky's  Bill,  he  take  off  he  hat,  he  did.  en 
'low,  sezee  : 

"  '  Well,  sir,  hit  's  des  like  I  tell  you.  Mo'  in- 
giner'lly  endurin'  er  de  week,  mammy,  she  cooks, 
but  on  Sundays,  mo'  speshually  w'en  dey  got 
comp'ny,  ole  Aunt  Dicey,  she  cooks.' 

"Ole  Mr.  Owl,  he  keep  axin',  en  Becky's  Bill 
keep  on  tellin'  twel,  bimeby,  Becky's  Bill,  he  got 
skeerd,  en  tired,  en  mad,  en  den  he  le'pt  out  fum 
dar  en  he  run  home  like  a  quarter-hoss  ;  en  now 
ef  you  git  'im  in  dat  swamp  you  got  ter  go  'long 
wid   im. 


HOW   THE   BIRDS   TALK  163 

The  little  boy  sat  and  gazed  in  the  fire  after 
Uncle  Remus  had  paused.  He  evidently  had  no 
more  questions  to  ask.  After  a  while  the  old 
man  resumed : 

"  But  't  ain't  des  de  owls  dat  kin  talk.  I  des 
want  you  ter  git  up  in  de  mornin'  en  lissen  at  de 
chickens.  I  kin  set  right  yer  en  tell  you  des 
zackly  w'at  you  '11  year  um  say." 

The  little  boy  laughed,  and  Uncle  Remus 
looked  up  into  the  rafters  to  hide  a  responsive 
smile. 

"  De  old  Dominicker  Hen,  she  '11  fly  off  'n  'er 
nes'  in  de  hoss-trough,  en  squall  out : 

"  i  Aigs  I  lay  eve'y  day  en  yer  dey  come  en 
take  um  'way  /  I  lay,  I  lay,  I  lay,  en  yit  I  hatter 
go  dare-footed,  dare-footed,  bare-footed !  Ef  I 
lay,  en  lay  twel  doomsday,  I  know  I  '11  hatter  go 
bare- footed,  bare- footed,  bare-footed  !' ' 

Uncle  Remus  managed  to  emphasize  certain 
words  so  as  to  give  a  laughably  accurate  imitation 
of  a  cackling  hen.      He  went  on: 

"  Now,  den,  w'en  de  rooster  year  de  Dominicker 
Hen  a-cacklin',  I  boun'  you  he  gwine  ter  jine  in. 
He  '11  up  en  say,  sezee : 

" '  Yo'  foot  so  big,  yo'  foot  so  wide,  yd  foot  so  long. 
I  can't  git  a  shoe  ter-ht-it,  ter-fvt-xt,  ter-ht-\t ! ' 

"  En  den  dar  dey  '11  have  it,  up  en  down, 
qua'llin'  des  like  sho'-nuff  folks." 


164  HOW    THE    BIRDS    TALK 

The  little  boy  waited  for  Uncle  Remus  to  go 
on,  but  the  old  man  was  done.  He  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  began  to  hum  a  tune. 

After  a  while  the  youngster  said : 

"  Uncle  Remus,  you  know  you  told  me  that 
you  'd  sing  me  a  song  every  time  I  brought  you 
a  piece  of  cake." 

"  I  'speckt  I  did,  honey  —  I  'speckt  I  did.  Ole 
ez  I  is,  I  got  a  mighty  sweet  toofe.  Yit  I  ain't 
see  no  cake  dis  night." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  child,  taking  a  package 
from  his  pocket. 

"Yasser!"  exclaimed  the'  old  man,  with  a 
chuckle,  "  dar  she  is  !  En  all  wrop  up,  in  de  bar- 
gain. I  'm  mighty  glad  you  helt  'er  back,  honey, 
kaze  now  I  can  take  dat  cake  en  chime  up  wid  'er 
en  sing  you  one  er  dem  ole- time  songs,  en  folks 
gwine  by  '11  say  we  er  kyar'n  on  a  camp-meetin'." 


THE  FOOLISH  WOMAN 

W'EN  you  see  dese  yer  niggers  w'at  wrop  de 
ha'r  wid  a  string,"  said  Uncle  Remus  to 
the  little  boy  one  day,  apropos  of  nothing  in  par- 
ticular except  his  own  prejudices,  "  you  des  keep 
yo'  eye  on  um.  You  des  watch  urn,  kaze  ef  you 
don't  dey  '11  take  en  trip  you  up  —  dey  will  dat,  dez 
ez  sho'  ez  de  worl'.  En  ef  you  don't  b'lieve  me, 
you  kin  des'  ax  yo'  mammy.  Many's  en  many's  de 
time  is  Miss  Sally  driv  niggers  out  'n  de  big  house 
yard  kaze  dey  got  der  ha'r  wrop  up  wid  a  string. 
I  bin  lookin'  en  peepin',  en  lis'nin'  en  eavesdrap- 
pin'  in  dese  low  groun's  a  mighty  long  time,  en  I 
ain't  ne'er  sot  eyes  on  no  nigger  w'at  wrop  der 
ha'r  wid  a  string  but  w'at  dey  wuz  de  meanes' 
kind  er  nigger.  En  if  you  ax  anybody  w'at  know 
'bout  niggers  dey  '11  tell  you  de  same." 

11  But,  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  little  boy  protest- 
ingly,  "  does  n't  Aunt  Tempy  wrap  her  hair  with 
a  string  ? " 

"  Who  ?  Sis  Tempy  ?  Shoo  !  "  exclaimed  the 
9*  i65 


166  THE   FOOLISH   WOMAN 

old  man  scornfully.  "  Why,  whar  yo'  eyes,  honey  ? 
Nex'  time  you  see  Sis  Tempy,  you  take  en  look 
at  'er  right  close,  en  ef  'er  ha'r  ain't  platted  den 
I  'm  a  Chinee.     Now,  dat  's  what !  " 

"  Well,  they  don't  bother  me,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"  Dat  dey  don't !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Remus  en- 
thusiastically. "  Dey  don't  dast  ter,  kaze  dey 
know  ef  dey  do,  dey  '11  have  old  Remus  atter  um, 
en  mean  ez  dey  is,  dey  know  hit  ain't  gwine  ter 
do  ter  git  de  ole  nigger  atter  um. 

"Hit  seem  like  ter  me  dat  one  time  I  year  a 
mighty  funny  tale  'bout  one  er  deze  yer  niggers 
w'at  wrop  der  ha'r  wid  a  string,  but  I  speck  it  mos' 
too  late  fer  ter  start  in  fer  ter  tell  a  tale  —  kaze 
present' y  you  '11  be  a-settin'  up  dar  in  dat  cheer 
dar  fas'  'sleep,  en  I  'm  a-gittin'  too  ole  en  stiff  fer 
ter  be  totin'  you  roun'  yer  like  you  wuz  a  sack  er 
bran." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  sleepy,  Uncle  Remus,"  the  little 
boy  exclaimed.      "Please  tell  me  the  story." 

The  old  man  stirred  the  embers  with  the  end 
of  his  cane,  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  very  solemn 
mood.      Presently  he  said  : 

"'T  ain't  so  might)'  much  of  a  tale,  yit  it  '11  do 
fer  ter  go  ter  bed  on.  One  time  dey  wuz  a  nigger 
man  w'at  tuck  'n  married  a  nigger 'oman,  en  dish 
yer  nigger  'oman  kep'  'er  h'ar  wrop  up  wid  a  string 


THE   FOOLISH   WOMAN  167 

night  en  day.  Dey  married,  en  dey  went  home 
ter  housekeepin'.  Dey  got  um  some  pots,  en  dey 
got  um  some  kittles,  en  dey  got  um  some  pans,  en 
dey  got  um  some  dishes,  en  dey  start  in,  dey  did, 
des  like  folks  does  w'en  dey  gwine  ter  stay  at  home. 

"  Dey  rocked  on,  dey  did,"  said  Uncle  Remus, 
scratching  his  head  with  some  earnestness,  "  en 
it  seem  like  dey  wuz  havin'  a  mighty  good  time ; 
but  one  day  w'en  dish  yer  nigger  man  wuz  gone  ter 
town  atter  some  vittles,  the  nigger  'oman  she  'gun 
ter  git  fretted.  Co'se,  honey,  you  dunner  how  de 
wimmen  folks  goes  on,  but  I  boun'  you  '11  know 
'fo'  you  gits  ez  ole  en  ez  crippled  up  in  de  j'ints  ez 
w'at  I  is.  Well,  dish  yer  nigger  'oman,  she  'gun 
ter  fret  en  ter  worry,  en  bimeby  she  got  right 
down  mad." 

"  But  what  did  she  get  mad  about,  Uncle  Re- 
mus ?  "  the  little  boy  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  old  man  condescendingly, 
"  I  '11  up  en  tell  you.  She  wuz  des  like  yuther 
wimmen  folks,  en  she  got  fretted  kase  de  days 
wuz  long  en  de  wedder  hot.  She  got  mad  en  she 
stayed  mad.  Eve'y  time  she  walked  'cross  de 
flo'  de  dishes  ud  rattle  in  de  cubberd,  en  de  mo' 
she  'd  fix  um  de  wuss  dey  'd  rattle.  Co'se,  dis 
make  'er  lots  madder  dan  w'at  she  wuz  at  fust,  en 
bimeby  she  tuck  'n  holler  out : 


1 68  THE   FOOLISH   WOMAN 

"  '  Wat  make  you  rattle  ?  ' 

"  Dishes  dey  keep  on  a-rattlin'. 

"  '  What  make  you  rattle  so  ?  I  ain't  gwine  ter 
have  no  rattlin'  'roun'  yer ! ' 

"  Dishes  dey  keep  on  a-rattlin'  en  a-rattlin'. 
De  'oman  she  holler  out : 

"  '  Who  you  rattlin'  at?  I  'm  de  mistiss  er  dis 
house.  I  ain't  gwine  ter  have  none  er  yo'  rattlin' 
'roun'  yer  !  ' 

"  Dishes  dey  rattle  en  rattle.  De  oman,  she 
holler  out : 

"  '  Stop  dat  rattlin'.  I  ain't  gwine  ter  have  you 
sassin'  back  at  me  dat  way.  I  'm  de  mistiss  er 
dis  house  ! ' 

"  Den  she  walked  up  en  down,  en  eve'y  time 
she  do  dat  de  dishes  dey  rattle  wuss  en  wuss. 
Den  she  holler  out : 

"  *  Stop  dat  sassin'  at  me,  I  tell  you  !  I  'm  de 
mistiss  in  dis  house  ! ' 

"  Yit  de  dishes  keep  on  rattlin'  en  shakin',  en 
bimeby  de  'oman  run  ter  de  cubberd,  she  did,  en 
grab  de  dishes  en  fling  um  out  in  de  yard,  en  no 
sooner  's  she  do  dis  dan  dey  wuz  busted  all  ter 
flinders. 

"  I  tell  you  w'at,  mon,"  said  Uncle  Remus,  after 
pausing  a  moment  to  see  how  this  proceeding 
had  affected   the   little  boy.       "  I    tell    you   w'at, 


THE   FOOLISH    WOMAN  169 

mon,  wimmen  folks  is  mighty  kuse.  Dey  is  dat, 
des  ez  sho'  ez  de  worT.  Bimeby  de  nigger  man 
come  home,  en  w'en  he  see  all  de  dishes  broke  up 
he  wuz  'stonish',  but  he  ain't  say  nuthin'.  He  des 
look  up  at  de  sun  fer  ter  see  w'at  time  it  is,  en 
feel  er  hisse'f  fer  ter  see  ef  he  well.  Den  he  up 
'n  holler : 

"  '  Ole  oman,  yer  some  fish  w'at  I  bring  you. 
I  speck  you  better  clean  urn  fer  dinner.'  De 
'oman,  she  'low  : 

"  '  Lay  urn  down  dar.'  De  man,  he  tuck  en 
lay  um  down  en  draw'd  a  bucket  er  water  out  er 
de  well. 

"  Den,  bimeby,  de  'oman,  she  come  out  en  start 
ter  clean  de  fish.  She  pick  um  up,  she  did,  en 
start  ter  scrape  de  scales  off,  but  she  sees  der  eyes 
wide  open,  en  she  'low : 

"  '  Shet  dem  eyes  !  Don't  you  be  a-lookin'  at 
me  ! ' 

"  Fish,  dey  keep  on  a-lookin'.  'Oman,  she 
holler  out : 

"  '  Shet  up  dem  eyes,  I  tell  you  !  I  'm  de  mis- 
tiss  er  dish  yer  house ! ' 

"  Fish,  dey  keep  der  eyes  wide  open.  'Oman, 
she  squall  out : 

"  '  Shet  dem  eyes,  you  impident  villyuns  !  I  'm 
de  mistiss  in  dish  yer  house  ! ' 


i7o  THE   FOOLISH    WOMAN 

"  Fish,  dey  licit  der  eyes  wide  open,  en  den  de 
'oman  tuck  en  flung  urn  in  de  well." 

"And  then  what?"  asked  the  little  boy,  as 
Uncle  Remus  paused. 

"  Ah,  Lord,  honey  !  You  too  hard  fer  me  now. 
De  'oman  tuck  'n  'stroy  de  dishes,  en  den  she 
flung  de  fishes  in  de  well,  en  dey  des  nat'ally  ruint 
de  well.  I  dunner  w'at  de  man  say,  but  ef  he 
wuz  like  de  balance  un  urn,  he  des  sot  down  en 
lit  his  pipe,  en  tuck  a  smoke  en  den  lit  out  fer 
bed.  Dat  's  de  way  men  folks  does,  en  ef  you 
don't  b'lieve  me  yo  kin  ax  yo'  pa,  but  fer  de 
Lord's  sake  don't  ax  'im  whar  Miss  Sally  kin  year 
you,  kaze  den  she  '11  light  on  me,  en  mo'  'n  dat, 
she  won't  save  me  no  mo'  col'  vittles." 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF    SIMON    AND 

SUSANNA1 

"  1     GOT  one  tale  on  my  min',"  said  Uncle  Re- 

JL  mus  to  the  little  boy  one  night.  "  I  got  one 
tale  on  my  min'  dat  I  ain't  ne'er  tell  you  ;  I  dunner 
how  come  ;  I  speck  it  des  kaze  I  git  mixt  up  in 
my  idees.  Deze  is  busy  times,  mon,  en  de  mo' 
you  does  de  mo'  you  hatter  do,  en  w'en  dat  de 
case,  it  ain't  ter  be  'spected  dat  one  ole  broke- 
down  nigger  kin  'member  'bout  eve'ything." 

"  What  is  the  story,  Uncle  Remus  ? "  the  little 
boy  asked. 

"Well,  honey,"  said  the  old  man,  wiping  his 
spectacles,  "hit  sorter  run  dis  away:  One  time 
dey  wuz  a  man  w'at  had  a  mighty  likely  daughter." 

"  Was  he  a  white  man  or  a  black  man  ? "  the 
little  boy  asked. 

"  I  'clar'  ter  gracious,  honey !  "  exclaimed  the 
old  man,  "  you  er  pushin'  me  mos'  too  close.      Fer 

1  It  may  be  of  interest  to  those  who  approach  Folk-Lore  stories  from  the 
scientific  side,  to  know  that  this  story  was  told  to  one  of  my  little  boys 
three  years  ago  by  a  negro  named  John  Holder.  I  have  since  found  a 
variant  (or  perhaps  the  original)  in  Theal's  "  Kaffir  Folk-Lore." 


172  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA 

all  I  kin  tell  yon,  de  man  mout  er  bin  ez  w'ite  ez 
de  driven  snow,  er  he  mout  er  bin  de  blackes' 
AfrVkin  er  de  whole  kit  en  bilin'.  I  'm  des  tellin' 
you  de  .tale,  en  you  kin  take  en  take  de  man  en 
w'itewash  'im,  er  you  kin  black  'im  up  des  ez  you 
please.      Dat  's  de  way  I  looks  at  it. 

"Well,  one  time  dey  wuz  a  man,  en  dish  yer 
man  he  had  a  mighty  likely  daughter.  She  wuz 
so  purty  dat  she  had  mo'  beaus  dan  w'at  you  got 
fingers  en  toes.  But  de  gal  daddy,  he  got  his 
spishuns  'bout  all  un  um,  en  he  won't  let  urn 
come  'roun'  de  house.  But  dey  kep'  on  pesterin' 
'im  so,  dat  bimeby  he  give  word  out  dat  de  man 
w'at  kin  clear  up  six  acres  er  Ian'  en  roll  up  de 
logs,  en  pile  up  de  bresh  in  one  day,  dat  man 
kin  marry  his  daughter. 

"  In  co'se,  dis  look  like  it  impossible,  en  all  de 
beaus  drap  off  'ceppin'  one,  en  he  wuz  a  great 
big  strappin'  chap  w'at  look  like  he  kin  knock  a 
steer  down.  Dis  chap  he  wuz  name  Simon,  en 
de  gal,  she  wuz  name  Susanna.  Simon,  he  love 
Susanna,  en  Susanna,  she  love  Simon,  en  dar  it 
went. 

"Well,  sir,  Simon,  he  went  ter  de  gal  daddy, 
he  did,  en  he:  say  dat  ef  anybody  kin  clear  up  dat 
Ian',  he  de  one  kin  do  it,  least" ways  he  say  he 
gwine  try  mighty  hard.      De  ole  man,  he  grin  en 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA   173 

rub  his  han's  terge'er,  he  did,  en  tole  Simon  ter 
start  in  in  de  mornin'.  Susanna,  she  makes  out 
she  wuz  fixin'  sumpin  in  de  cubberd,  but  she 
tuck  'n  kiss  'er  han'  at  Simon,  en  nod  'er  head. 
Dis  all  Simon  want,  en  he  went  out  er  dar  des 
ez  happy  ez  a  jay-bird  atter  he  done  robbed  a 
sparrer-nes'. 

"  Now,  den,"  Uncle  Remus  continued,  settling 
himself  more  comfortably  in  his  chair,  "dish  yer 
man  wuz  a  witch." 

"Why,  I  thought  a  witch  was  a  woman,"  said 
the  little  boy. 

The  old  man  frowned  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  remarked  with  some  emphasis, 
"ef  you  er  gwine  ter  tu'n  de  man  inter  a  'oman, 
den  dey  won't  be  no  tale,  kaze  dey  's  bleege  ter 
be  a  man  right  dar  whar  I  put  dis  un.  Hit  's 
des  like  I  tole  you  'bout  de  color  er  de  man. 
Black  'im  er  whitewash  'im  des  ez  you  please,  en 
ef  you  want  ter  put  a  frock  on  'im  ter  boot,  hit 
ain't  none  er  my  business;  but  I  'm  gwine  ter 'low 
he  wuz  a  man  ef  it  's  de  las'  ac'." 

The  little  boy  remained  silent,  and  Uncle  Re- 
mus went  on : 

"  Now,  den,  dish  yer  man  was  a  witch.  He 
could  cunjer  folks,  mo'  'speshually  dem  folks  w'at 
ain't  got  no  rabbit  foot.      He  bin  at  his  cunjer- 


174  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA 

ments  so  long,  dat  Susanna  done  learn  mos'  all 
his  tricks.  So  de  nex'  mornin'  wen  Simon  come 
by  de  house  fer  ter  borry  de  ax,  Susanna  she  run 
en  got  it  fer  'im.  She  got  it,  she  did,  en  den 
she  sprinkles  some  black  san'  on  it,  en  say,  '  Ax, 
cut;  cut,  ax.'  Den  she  rub  'er  ha'r  'cross  it,  en 
give  it  ter  Simon.  He  tuck  de  ax,  he  did,  en 
den  Susanna  say  : 

"  '  Go  down  by  de  branch,  git  sev'n  w'ite  peb- 
bles, put  um  in  dis  little  cloth  bag,  en  whenever 
you  want  the  ax  ter  cut,  shake  um  up.' 

"  Simon,  he  went  off  in  de  woods,  en  started  in 
ter  clearin'  up  de  six  acres.  Well,  sir,  dem  pebbles 
en  dat  ax,  dey  done  de  work — dey  did  dat.  Simon 
could  'a'  bin  done  by  de  time  de  dinner-horn 
blowed,  but  he  hung  back  kaze  he  ain't  want  de 
man  fer  ter  know  dat  he  doin'  it  by  cunjerments. 

"Wen  he  shuck  de  pebbles  de  ax  'ud  cut,  en 
de  trees  'ud  fall,  en  de  Urn's  'ud  drap  off,  en  de 
logs  'ud  roll  up  terge'er,  en  de  bresh  'ud  pile 
itself  up.  Hit  went  on  dis  away  twel  by  de  time 
it  wuz  two  hours  b'  sun,  de  whole  six  acres  wuz 
done  cleaned  up. 

"'Bout  dat  time  de  man  come  'roun',  he  did, 
fer  ter  see  how  de  work  gittin'  on,  en,  mon  !  he 
wuz  'stonish'.  He  ain't  know  w'at  ter  do  er  say. 
He  ain't  want  ter  give  up  his  daughter,  en  yit  he 


b^'   ft 


SIMON    SHAKES    THE    PEBBLES. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA  177 

ain't  know  how  ter  git  out  'n  it.  He  walk  'roun' 
en  'roun',  en  study,  en  study,  en  study  how  he 
gwine  rue  de  bargain.  At  las'  he  walk  up  ter 
Simon,  he  did,  en  he  say  : 

"  '  Look  like  you  sort  er  forehanded  wid  your 
work.' 

"  Simon,  he  'low :  '  Yasser,  w'en  I  starts  in  on 
a  job  I  'm  mighty  restless  twel  I  gits  it  done. 
Some  er  dis  timber  is  rough  en  tough,  but  I  bin 
had  wuss  jobs  dan  dis  in  my  time.' 

"De  man  say  ter  hisse'f:  'Wat  kind  er  folks 
is  dis  chap  ? '  Den  he  say  out  loud :  '  Well, 
sence  you  er  so  spry,  dey  's  two  mo'  acres  'cross 
de  branch  dar.  Ef  you  '11  clear  dem  up  'fo'  sup- 
per you  kin  come  up  ter  de  house  en  git  de  gal.' 

"  Simon  sorter  scratch  his  head,  kaze  he  dun- 
ner  whedder  de  pebbles  gwine  ter  hoi'  out,  yit  he 
put  on  a  bol'  front  en  he  tell  de  man  dat  he  '11  go 
'cross  dar  en  clean  up  de  two  acres  soon  ez  he 
res'  a  little. 

"  De  man  he  went  off  home,  en  soon  's  he  git 
out  er  sight,  Simon  went  'cross  de  branch  en 
shook  de  pebbles  at  de  two  acres  er  woods,  en  't 
want  no  time  skacely  'fo'  de  trees  wuz  all  cut 
down  en  pile  up. 

"  De  man,  he  went  home,  he  did,  en  call  up 
Susanna,  en  say: 


178  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA 

"'  Daughter,  clat  man  look  like  he  gwine  git 
you,  sho'.' 

"  Susanna,  she  hang  'er  head,  enjook  like  she 
fretted,  en  den  she  say  she  don't  keer  nuthin'  fer 
Simon,  nohow." 

"  Why,  I  thought  she  wanted  to  marry  him," 
said  the  little  boy. 

"  Well,  honey,  w'en  you  git  growed  up,  en  git 
whiskers  on  yo'  chin,  en  den  atter  de  whiskers 
git  gray  like  mine,  you  '11  fin'  out  sump'n  'n'er 
'bout  de  wimmin  folks.  Dey  ain't  ne'er  say 
zackly  w'at  dey  mean,  none  er  urn,  mo'  'spesh- 
ually  w'en  dey  er  gwine  on  'bout  gittin'  married. 

"  Now,  dar  wuz  dat  gal  Susanna  what  I  'm  a- 
tellin'  you  'bout.  She  mighty  nigh  'stracted  'bout 
Simon,  en  yit  she  make  'er  daddy  b'lieve  dat  she 
'spize  'im.  I  ain't  blamin'  Susanna,"  Uncle  Re- 
mus went  on  with  a  judicial  air,  "  kase  she  know 
dat  'er  daddy  wuz  a  witch  en  a  mighty  mean  one 
in  de  bargain. 

"Well,  atter  Susanna  done  make  'er  daddy 
b'lieve  dat  she  ain't  kecrin'  nothin'  't  all  'bout  Si- 
mon, he  'gun  ter  set  his  traps  en  fix  his  tricks. 
He  up  'n  tell  Susanna  dat  atter  'er  en  Simon  git 
married  dey  mus'  go  upsta'rs  in  de  front  room,  en 
den  he  tell  'er  dat  she  mus'  make  Simon  go  ter 
bed  fus\     Den  de  man  went  upsta'rs  en  tuck  'n 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA  179 

tuck  all  de  slats  out'n  de  bedstid  ceppin  one  at  de 
head  en  one  at  de  foot.  Atter  dat  he  tuck  'n 
put  some  foot-valances  'roun'  de  bottom  er  de  bed 
—  des  like  dem  w'at  you  bin  see  on  yo'  gran'ma 
bed.  Den  he  tuck  'n  sawed  out  de  floor  und'  de 
bed,  en  dar  wuz  de  trap  all  ready. 

"Well,  sir,  Simon  come  up  ter  de  house,  en  de 
man  make  like  he  mighty  glad  fer  ter  see  'im,  but 
Susanna,  she  look  like  she  mighty  shy.  No 
matter  'bout  dat;  atter  supper  Simon  en  Susanna 
got  married.  Hit  ain't  in  de  tale  wedder  dey 
sont  fer  a  preacher  er  wedder  dey  wuz  a  squire 
browsin'  'roun'  in  de  neighborhoods,  but  dey  had 
cake  wid  reezins  in  it,  en  some  er  dish  yer  silly- 
bug  w'at  got  mo'  foam  in  it  dan  dey  is  dram,  en 
dey  had  a  mighty  happy  time. 

"Wen  bedtime  come,  Simon  en  Susanna  went 
upsta'rs,  en  w'en  dey  got  in  de  room,  Susanna 
kotch  'im  by  de  han',  en  helt  up  her  finger.  Den 
she  whisper  en  tell  'im  dat  ef  dey  don't  run  away 
fum  dar  dey  bofe  gwine  ter  be  kilt.  Simon  ax 
'er  how  come,  en  she  say  dat  'er  daddy  want  ter 
kill  'im  kase  he  sech  a  nice  man.  Dis  make  Si- 
mon grin  ;  yit  he  wuz  sorter  restless  'bout  gittin' 
'way  fum  dar.  But  Susanna,  she  say  wait.  She 
say: 

"  '  Pick  up  yo'  hat  en  button  up  yo'  coat.   Now, 


180  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA 

den,  take  dat  stick  er  wood  dar  en  hoi'  it  'bove 
yo'  head.' 

"  Wiles  he  stan'in'  dar,  Susanna  got  a  hen  egg- 
out  'n  a  basket,  den  she  got  a  meal-bag,  en  a 
skillet.     She  'low : 

"  '  Now,  den,  drap  de  wood  on  de  bed.' 

"Simon  done  des  like  she  say,  en  time  de 
wood  struck  de  bed  de  tick  en  de  mattruss  went 
a-tumblin'  thoo  de  floor.  Den  Susanna  tuck  Si- 
mon by  de  han'  en  dey  run  out  de  back  way  ez 
hard  ez  dey  kin  go. 

"  De  man,  he  wuz  down  dar  waitin'  fer  de  bed 
ter  drap.  He  had  a  big  long  knife  in  he  han',  en 
time  de  bed  drapped,  he  lit  on  it,  he  did,  en  stob- 
bed  it  scan'lous.  He  des  natchully  ripped  de  tick 
up,  en  w'en  he  look,  bless  gracious,  dey  ain't  no 
Simon  dar.  I  lay  dat  man  wuz  mad  den.  He 
snorted  Voun'  dar  twel  blue  smoke  come  out'n  his 
nose,  en  his  eye  look  red  like  varmint  eye  in  de 
dark.  Den  he  run  upsta'rs  en  dey  ain't  no  Simon 
dar,  en  nudder  wuz  dey  any  Susanna. 

"  Gentermens  !  den  he  git  madder.  He  rush 
out,  he  did,  en  look  'roun',  en  'way  offyander  he 
see  Simon  en  Susanna  des  a-runnin',  en  a-holdin' 
one  nudder's  han'." 

"Why,  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  little  boy,  "I 
thought  you  said  it  was  night?" 

"  Dat  w'at  I  said,  honey,  en   I  '11  stan'  by  it. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA  181 

Yit,  how  many  times  dis  blessed  night  is  I  got 
ter  tell  you  dat  de  man  wuz  a  witch  ?  En  bein'  a 
witch,  co'se  he  kin  see  in  de  dark. 

"Well,  dish  yer  witch-man,  he  look  off  en  he 
see  Simon  en  Susanna  runnin'  ez  hard  ez  dey 
kin.  He  put  out  atter  um,  he  did,  wid  his  knife 
in  his  han',  an'  he  kep'  on  a  gamin'  on  um.  Bime- 
by,  he  got  so  close  dat  Susanna  say  ter  Simon: 

"  '  Fling  down  yo'  coat.' 

"Time  de  coat  tech  de  groun',  a  big  thick 
woods  sprung  up  whar  it  fell.  But  de  man,  he 
cut  his  way  thoo  it  wid  de  knife,  en  kep'  on 
a-pursuin'  atter  um. 

"  Bimeby,  he  got  so  close  dat  Susanna  drap  de 
egg  on  de  groun',  en  time  it  fell  a  big  fog  riz  up 
fum  de  groun',  en  a  little  mo'  en  de  man  would  a 
got  los\  But  atter  so  long  a  time  fog  got  blowed 
away  by  de  win',  en  de  man  kep'  on  a-pursuin' 
atter  um. 

"  Bimeby,  he  got  so  close  dat  Susanna  drap  de 
meal-sack,  en  a  great  big  pon'  er  water  kivered 
de  groun'  whar  it  fell.  De  man  wuz  in  sech  a 
big  hurry  dat  he  tried  ter  drink  it  dry,  but  he 
ain't  kin  do  dis,  so  he  sot  on  de  bank  en  blow'd 
on  de  water  wid  he  hot  breff,  en  atter  so  long  a 
time  de  water  made  hits  disappearance,  en  den  he 
kep'  on  atter  um. 

"  Simon  en  Susanna  wuz  des  a-runnin',  but  run 


182  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  SIMON  AND  SUSANNA 

ez  dey  would,  de  man  kep'  a-gainin'  on  um,  en  he 
got  so  close  dat  Susanna  drapped  de  skillet.  Den 
a  big  bank  er  darkness  fell  down,  en  de  man  ain't 
know  which  away  ter  go.  But  atter  so  long  a 
time  de  darkness  lif  up,  en  de  man  kep'  on  a-pur- 
suin'  atter  um.  Mon,  he  made  up  fer  los'  time, 
en  he  got  so  close  dat  Susanna  say  ter  Simon: 

"  l  Drap  a  pebble.' 

"Time  Simon  do  dis  a  high  hill  riz  up,  but  de 
man  clum  it  en  kep'  on  atter  um.  Den  Susanna 
say  ter  Simon  : 

"  '  Drap  nudder  pebble.' 

"Time  Simon  drap  de  pebble,  a  high  moun- 
tain growed  up,  but  de  man  crawled  up  it  en  kep' 
on  atter  um.     Den  Susanna  say: 

"  '  Drap  de  bigges'  pebble.' 

"  No  sooner  is  he  drap  it  dan  a  big  rock  wall 
riz  up,  en  hit  wuz  so  high  dat  de  witch-man  can't 
git  over.  He  run  up  en  down,  but  he  can't  find 
no  end,  en  den,  atter  so  long  a  time,  he  turn 
'roun'  en  £0  home. 

"On  de  yuther  side  er  dis  high  wall,  Susanna 
tuck  Simon  by  de  han',  en  say : 

"  '  Now  we  kin  res'.' 

"  En  I  reckon,"  said  the  old  man  slyly,  "dat 
we  all  better  res'." 


BROTHER    RABBIT   AND   THE 
GINGERCAKES. 

"  IVT^W,  "  ^es  te^  you  wat>  honey,"  said  Uncle 
li  Remus  to  the  little  boy,  "if  you  wan'  ter 
year  dish  yer  tale  right  straight  thro',  widout  any 
balkin'  er  stallin',  you  '11  des  hatter  quit  makin 
any  fuss.  Kaze  w'en  der  's  any  fuss  gwine  on 
hit  mos'  allers  inginner'lly  gits  me  mixt  up,  en 
w'en  I  gits  mixt  up  I  ain't  wuth  nuthin'  't  all 
skacely  fer  tellin'  a  tale,  en  ef  you  don't  b'lieve 
me,  you  may  des  ax  some  er  my  blood  kin. 
Now,  den,  you  des  set  right  whar  you  is  en  stop 
you  behavishness.  Kaze  de  fus'  time  you  wink 
loud,  you  got  ter  git  right  up  on  de  bed-pos'  dar 
en  ride  straddle. 

"  So,  den  !  Well,  one  time  Brer  Mink  en  Brer 
Coon  en  Brer  Polecat  all  live  terge'er  in  de  same 
settlement.  Let  'lone  dat,  dey  live  in  de  same 
house,  en  de  house  w'at  dey  live  in  wuz  made  in 
de  resemble  uv  a  great  big  holler  log.  In  dem 
days,   Brer  Polecat  wuz   de  king  er  de  creeturs 


184.  BROTHER    RABBIT   AND   THE    GINGERCAKES 

w'at  run  'bout  atter  dark,  en  you  better  make  up 
yo'  min'  dat  he  made  um  stan'  'roun'  might'ly." 

"Why,  Uncle  Remus,"  said  the  little  boy,  "I 
thought  Brother  Rabbit  —  " 

"Well,  de  goodness  en  de  gracious  !  ain't  I  ax 
you  fer  ter  please  ma'am  don't  make  no  fuss? 
Kaze  I  know  mighty  well  Brer  Rabbit  use  ter  be 
de  slickes'  en  de  suples',  but  dey  'bleege  ter  be  a 
change,  kase  't  ain't  in  natur'  fer  de  't'er  creeturs 
not  ter  kotch  on  ter  his  ins  en  his  outs,  en  I  speck 
dat  de  time  w'en  dey  fin'  'im  out  is  de  time  w'en 
ole  Brer  Polecat  got  ter  be  de  king  er  de  cree- 
turs— dat  's  what  I  speck. 

"But  no  matter  'bout  dat  —  by  hook  er  by 
crook,  Brer  Polecat  come  ter  be  de  king  er  de 
creeturs,  en  w'en  he  come  ter  be  dat  dey  'd  all 
er  um  go  a  long  ways  out  er  de  way  fer  ter  take 
off  der  hats  en  bow  der  howdies,  dey  would,  en 
some  un  um  would  tag  atter  'im,  en  laugh  eve'y 
time  Brer  Polecat  laughed,  en  grin  eve'y  time  he 
grinned. 

"Wiles  dish  yer  wuz  gwine  on  Brer  Rabbit 
wuz  in  de  crowd,  en  he  wuz  des  ez  big  a  man  ez 
any  er  um,  en  I  dunner  ef  he  want  de  bigges'. 
Well,  Brer  Rabbit  lie  move  en  secondary1  dat 
bein'  ez  how  Brer  Polecat  wuz  sech  a  nice  king 

1  Moved  and  seconded. 


BROTHER   RABBIT   AND   THE   GINGERCAKES    185 

dey  oughter  pass  a  law  dat  eve'y  time  de  yuther 
creeturs  meet  um  in  de  road  dey  mus'  shet  der 
eyes  en  hoi'  der  nose.  Some  er  um  say  dey 
don't  min'  holdin'  der  nose,  but  dey  don't  like 
dish  yer  way  er  shettin'  der  eyes,  kaze  dey  mout 
run  up  agin  a  tree,  er  stick  a  brier  in  der  foot; 
but  Brer  Rabbit,  he  up  en  'low,  he  did,  dat  't  wuz 
des  'bout  ez  little  ez  dey  kin  do  ter  shet  der  eye 
en  hoi'  der  nose  w'en  dey  git  war  sech  a  nice  king 
is,  en  so  dey  all  hatter  come  Youn'. 

"  De  nex'  day  atter  all  dis  happen,  Brer  Rab- 
bit he  come  by  de  house  whar  ole  King  Polecat 
live  'long  wid  Brer  Coon  en  Brer  Mink.  Brer 
Coon  he  wuz  a  great  han'  fer  ter  bake  ginger- 
cake.  Fur  en  wide  de  folks  knowd  'bout  Brer 
Coon  gingercakes,  en  dey  could  n't  be  no  camp- 
meetin'  'roun'  in  dem  diggin's,  but  w'at  he  wuz 
hangin'  on  de  aidges  sellin'  his  gingercakes  en 
his  'simmon  beer ;  en  it  seem  like  eve'y  time  Brer 
Rabbit  see  Brer  Coon  dat  he  whirl  right  in  en  git 
hongry  fer  gingercakes. 

"  So  de  nex'  day  after  dey  done  fix  it  all  up 
'bout  ole  King  Polecat,  Brer  Rabbit  he  come 
sailin'  by  Brer  Coon's  house,  en  he  ax  'im  ef  he 
got  any  gingercakes  fer  ter  sell.  Brer  Coon 
'low,  he  did,  dat  he  got  um  des  ez  fine  ez  fine  kin 
be,  en  Brer  Rabbit  say  he  b'lieve  he  '11  buy  some, 


186   BROTHER   RABBIT   AND   THE   GINGERCAKES 

en  wid  dat  he  run  his  han'  in  his  pocket,  he  did, 
en  pull  out  de  change  en  bought  'im  a  great  big 
stack  er  gingercakes. 

"  Den  he  tuck  'n  ax  Brer  Coon  ef  he  won't  keep 
his  eye  on  de  gingercakes  wiles  he  go  git  some 
gyarlic  fer  to  eat  wid  urn.  Brer  Coon  'low  he  '11 
take  keer  un  urn  de  bes'  w'at  he  kin.  Brer  Rab- 
bit rush  off,  en  des  'bout  dat  time  ole  King  Pole- 
cat come  in  sight.  In  de  accordance  er  de  rules, 
soon  ez  Brer  Coon  see  ole  King  Polecat  he  mus' 
shet  he  eye  en  hoi'  he  nose  ;  and  w'iles  Brer  Coon 
doin'  dis,  ole  King  Polecat  walk  up,  he  did,  en 
grab  de  gingercakes  en  make  off  wid  urn.  Co'se, 
w'en  Brer  Rabbit  come  lippitin'  back,  he  hunt 
fer  he  gingercakes,  but  he  can't  fine  um  nowhar. 
Den  he  holler  out : 

"  '  My  goodness,  Brer  Coon  !  Whar  my  gin- 
gercakes ? ' 

''All  Brer  Coon  kin  say  is  dat  he  ain't  see  no- 
body take  de  gingercakes.  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  he 
did,  dat  dis  a  mighty  quare  way  fer  ter  do  a  man 
w'at  done  bought  de  gingercakes  en  pay  fer  um. 
Yit  he  say  he  'bleege  ter  have  some,  en  so  he  tuck 
'n  pitch  in  en  buy  'ner  stack  un  um.     Den  he  'low  : 

"  'Now,  den,  I  done  got  de  gyarlic  fer  ter  go 
wid  um,  en  I  Ml  des  'bout  squat  right  down  yer 
en  watch  deze  yer  gingercakes  my  own  se'f 


BROTHER   RABBIT    AND   THE    GINGERCAKES    187 

"So  he  squat  down  en  fix  hisse'f,  en  des  'bout 
de  time  w'en  he  wuz  ready  fer  ter  'stroy  de  gin- 
gercakes,  yer  come  old  King  Polecat.  Brer  Rab- 
bit, he  got  up,  he  did,  en  made  a  bow,  en  den  he 
helt  he  nose  en  make  like  he  wuz  a-shettin'  he 
eyes.  Ole  King  Polecat,  he  come  'long,  he  did, 
en  start  fer  ter  pick  up  de  gingercakes,  but  Brer 
Rabbit  holler  out : 

"  '  Drap  dem  gingercakes  ! ' 

"  Ole  King  Polecat  jump  back  en  look  like  his 
feelin's  bin  hurted,  en  he  squall  out : 

"'My  goodness!  How  come  yo'  eye  open? 
How  come  you  break  up  de  rules  dat  away  ?  ' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  pick  up  de  gingercakes,  en 
'low : 

"  'I  kin  hoi'  my  nose  ez  good  ez  de  nex' man, 
but  I  can't  shet  my  eyes  ter  save  my  life,  kaze  dey 
er  so  mighty  big  ! ' 

"  Dis  make  ole  King  Polecat  mad  enough  fer 
ter  eat  all  de  gingercakes  w'at  Brer  Coon  got  tn 
de  chist,  but  he  can't  help  hisse'f,  kaze  he  know 
dat  ef  Brer  Rabbit  tu'n  agin  'im,  he  won't  be 
much  uv  a  king  in  dat  ar  country.  Atter  dat  it 
got  so  dat  Brer  Rabbit  kin  put  down  his  ginger- 
cakes anywheres  he  want  ter ;  en  folks  'low  dat 
he  wuz  mighty  nigh  ez  big  a  man  ez  ole  King 
Polecat." 


BROTHER   RABBITS    COURTSHIP. 

ONE  night,  as  the  little  boy  went  tripping 
down  the  path  to  Uncle  Remus's  cabin,  he 
thought  he  heard  voices  on  the  inside.  With  a 
gesture  of  vexation  he  paused  at  the  door  and 
listened.  If  the  old  man  had  company,  the 
youngster  knew,  by  experience,  that  he  would 
get  no  story  that  night.  He  could  hear  Uncle 
Remus  talking  as  if  carrying  on  an  animated 
conversation.  Presently  he  crept  up  to  the  door, 
which  was  ajar,  and  peeped  in.  There  was  no- 
body in  sight  but  the  old  darkey,  and  the  little 
boy  went  in.  Uncle  Remus  made  a  great  pre- 
tense of  being  astonished. 

"Were  you  just  talking  to  yourself,  Uncle  Re- 
mus?" asked  the  little  boy. 

"  Yasser,"  said  the  old  man  with  a  serious  air, 
"dat  des  w'at  I  wuz  a-doin'.  I  done  clean  fergit 
myse'f.  I  year  tell  dat  clem  w'at  take  en  talk 
'long  wid  deyse'f  dat  dey  owe  de  Ole  Boy  a  day's 
work.     Ef  dat  de  state  er  de  case  den  he  done 


BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP  189 

got  my  name  down  on  de  books,  en  hit  's  all  on 
account  er  deze  yer  uppity-biggity  niggers  w'at 
come  'long  yer  little  w'ile  ago  en  ax  me  ter  go 
'way  off  yan  ter  de  Spivey  place  whar  Nancy's 
Jim  gwine  ter  git  married. 

"  I  wuz  settin'  yer  runnin'  on  in  my  min'," 
Uncle  Remus  continued,  "'bout  de  time  w'en 
Brer  Rabbit  went  a-courtin'.  I  boun'  you  dey 
ain't  bin  no  sech  courtin'  sence  dat  day,  en  dey 
ain't  gwine  ter  be  no  mo'  sech." 

Here  Uncle  Remus  paused  and  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  rafters.  He 
paused  so  long  that  the  little  boy  finally  asked 
him  if  he  could  n't  tell  about  Brother  Rabbit's 
wonderful  courtship. 

"Well,  honey,"  said  the  old  man,  "you  hafter 
gi'  me  time  fer  to  shet  my  eye-balls  en  sorter  feel 
'roun'  'mongst  my  reckermembunce  atter  de 
wharfo'es  en  de  whatsisnames.  Kaze  I'm  like  a 
broke-down  plow-mule:  I  '11  go  'long  ef  you  lem- 
me  take  my  time,  but  ef  you  push  me,  I  '11  stop 
right  in  de  middle  er  de  row." 

"  I  can  wait  until  bedtime,"  the  little  boy  re- 
marked, "and  then  I  '11  have  to  go." 

"  Dat  's  so,"  Uncle  Remus  assented  cheerfully, 
"  en  bein'  ez  dat  's  de  case,  we  haf  ter  be  sorter 
keerful.     Lemme  go  'roun'  de  stumps  en  over  de 


i9o  BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP 

roots,  en  git  in  meller  groun',  en  den  we  kin  des 
back  right  long. 

"  Now  den  !  You  done  year  talk  er  Miss 
Meadows  en  de  gals,  en  'bout  how  Brer  Rabbit 
bin  gwine  dar  so  much.  Well,  hit  done  happen 
so  dat  Brer  Rabbit  wuz  tuck  wid  a-likin'  er  one 
er  de  gals.  Dis  make  'im  sorter  glad  at  de  off- 
start,  but  bimeby  he  'gun  ter  git  droopy.  He 
laid  'roun'  en  sot  'bout,  he  did,  en  look  like  he 
studyin'  'bout  sump'n  'n'er  way  off  yander. 

"  Hit  went  on  dis  away  twel  bimeby  Miss 
Meadows,  she  up  en  ax  Brer  Rabbit  w'at  de 
name  er  sense  is  de  matter  'long  wid  'im,  en  Brer 
Rabbit,  he  feel  so  bad  dat  he  up  en  'spon',  he 
did,  dat  he  dead  in  love  wid  one  er  de  gals.  Den 
Miss  Meadows,  she  ax  'im  w'at  de  reason  he  ain't 
tell  de  oral  dat  he  want  ter  be  'er  b'ide-ofoom. 
Brer  Rabbit  say  he  'shame'.  Miss  Meadows,  she 
toss  'er  head,  she  did,  en  'low  : 

"  '  Ya-a-a-s  !  You  look  like  you  'shame',  now 
don't  you  ?  You  mout  er  bin  'shame'  To'  hens 
had  der  toofies  pulled  out,  but  you  ain't  bin 
'shame'  sence.  I  done  see  you  cut  up  too  many 
capers;  I  know  dey  ain't  no  gal  on  de  top  side 
er  de  yeth  w'at  kin  faze  you,'  sez  Miss  Meadows, 
sez  she. 

"  Den  Brer  Rabbit  'low  dat  he  skeerd  de  gal 


BROTHER   RABBIT'S    COURTSHIP  191 

won't  have  'im,  but  Miss  Meadows  'fuse  ter  hoi' 
any  mo'  confab  wid  'im  ;  she  des  broke  out  singin' 
en  washin'  de  dishes,  en  w'at  wid  de  chune  en  de 
clatter  er  de  dishes  Brer  Rabbit  can't  year  his 
own  years.  Bimeby,  he  tuck  'n  sneak  out,  he 
did,  en  went  en  sot  in  de  shade  by  de  spring. 

"  He  ain't  set  dar  long  'fo'  yer  come  de  gal 
w'at  he  bin  studyin'  'bout.  She  had  a  pail  in  'er 
han'  en  she  wuz  comin'  atter  water.  She  come 
'long  down  de  paff  swingin'  de  pail  in  her  han' 
en  singin'." 

"What  did  she  sing,  Uncle  Remus?  "  the  little 
boy  asked,  becoming  more  and  more  interested. 

The  old  darkey  looked  slyly  at  the  youngster, 
and  chuckled  softly  to  himself.  Presently  he 
said : 

"  Hit  wuz  sorter  like  dis,  ef  I  ain't  make  no 
mistakes  in  de  chune : 

"  '  Oh,  says  de  woodpecker,  pec  kin'  on  de  tree, 
Once  I  courted  Miss  Kitty  Killdee, 
But  she  proved  fickle  en  fum  me  fled, 
En  sence  dat  time  my  head  bin  red' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  bin  feelin'  mighty  droopy  en 
low-spereted  all  de  mornin',  but  time  he  year  de 
gal  singin',  he  hist  up  his  years  en  look  sassy,  en 


i92  BROTHER   RABBIT'S    COURTSHIP 

wen  she  stop  singin'  he  broke  out  en  'gun  ter 
sing  hisse'f.      He  sung  dish  yer  kinder  chune  : 

"  '  Katy,  Katy  !  won 7  you  marry? 

Katy,  Katy  !  choose  me  den  ! 
Mammy  say  ef  you  will  marry 

She  will  kill  de  turkey  hen  ; 
Den  we  '11  have  a  new  convention, 

Den  we  }ll  know  de  rights  cr  men' 

"Why,  I  've  heard  grandma  sing  that  song," 
exclaimed  the  little  boy. 

"Tooby  sho'  you  is  —  tooby  sho'  you  is, 
honey,"  said  Uncle  Remus,  assuming  an  argu- 
mentative air  that  was  irresistibly  comic.  "  Ef 
Brer  Rabbit  kin  sing  dat  chune,  w'at  gwine  hen- 
der  w'ite  folks  fum  singin'  it?  Bless  yo'  soul, 
w'ite  folks  smart,  mon,  en  I  lay  der  ain't  no  chune 
w'at  Brer  Rabbit  kin  sing  dat  dey  can't  reel  off. 

"Well,  suh,  de  gal  year  Brer  Rabbit  singin', 
en  she  sorter  toss  'er  head  en  giggle.  Brer  Rab- 
bit he  look  at  'er  sideways  en  sorter  grin.  Den 
Brer  Rabbit  'low : 

"  '  Mornin*,  ma'm  ;  how  you  come  on  dis  fine 
morn  in'  ? ' 

"  De  gal  say  :  4  I  'm  des  toler'ble;  how  you  do 
\  o'se'f? ' 


BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP  193 

"  Brer  Rabbit  'low,  he  did:  'I  thank  you, 
ma'm,  I  'm  right  po'ly.  I  ain't  bin  feelin'  ter  say 
reely  peart  in  mighty  nigh  a  montV 

"  De  gal  laugh  en  say:  '  Dat  w'at  I  year  tell. 
I  speck  you  in  love,  Brer  Rabbit.  You  ought 
ter  go  off  some'rs  en  git  you  a  wife.' 

"  Dis  make  Brer  Rabbit  feel  sorter  'shame',  en 
he  hung  his  head  en  make  marks  in  de  san'  wid 
his  foots.  Bimeby  he  say :  '  How  come,  ma'm, 
dat  you  don't  git  married  ?  ' 

"  De  gal  laugh  wuss  'n  wuss,  en  atter  she  kin 
ketch  'er  breff  she  'low  :  '  Lordy,  Brer  Rabbit ! 
I  got  too  much  sense  —  mysef —  fer  ter  be  gittin' 
married  widout  no  sign  er  no  dream.' 

"  Den  Brer  Rabbit  say  :  '  W'at  kinder  sign 
does  you  want,  ma'm  ? ' 

"  De  gal  'low :  '  Des  any  kinder  sign  ;  don't 
make  no  diffunce  w'at.  I  done  try  all  de  spells, 
en  I  ain't  see  no  sign  yit.' 

"  Brer  Rabbit  say :  '  W'at  kinder  spells  is  you 
done  tried,  ma'm  ?  ' 

"  De  gal  'low:  '  Dey  ain't  no  tellin',  Brer  Rab- 
bit, dat  dey  ain't.  I  done  try  all  dat  I  year  talk 
'bout.  I  tuck  'n  fling  a  ball  er  yarn  outen  de  win- 
dow at  midnight,  en  dey  ain't  nobody  come  en 
wind  it.  I  tuck  a  lookin'-glass  en  look  down  in 
de  well  en  I  ain't  see  nothin'  't  all.      I  tuck  a  hard- 


194  BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP 

b'iled  egg  en  scoop  de  yaller  out,  en  fill  it  up  wid 
salt  en  eat  it  widout  drinkin'  any  water.  Den  I 
went  ter  bed,  but  I  ain't  dream  'bout  a  blessed  soul. 
I  went  out  'twix'  sunset  and  dark  en  fling  hempseed 
over  my  lef  shoulder,  but  I  ain't  see  no  beau  yit.' 

"Brer  Rabbit,  he  'low,  he  did:  '  Ef  you  'd 
a-tole  me  w'en  you  wuz  a-gwine,  ma'am,  I  lay 
you  'd  'a  seed  a  beau.' 

"  De  gal,  she  giggle,  en  say :  '  Oh,  hush,  Brer 
Rabbit !  Ef  you  don't  g'  way  fum  yer  I  gwine 
hit  you !  You  too  funny  fer  anything.  Wat 
beau  you  speck  I  'd  'a'  seed  ? ' 

"  Brer  Rabbit,  he  up  en  'low,  he  did :  ■  You  'd 
'a'  seed  me,  ma'am,  dat  's  who  you  'd  a  seed.' 

"  De  eal,  she  look  at  Brer  Rabbit  des  like  'er 
feelin's  is  bin  hurted,  en  say:  'Ain't  you  'shame' 
er  yo'se'f  ter  be  talkin'  dat  away  en  makin'  fun  ? 
I  'm  a-gwine  away  fum  dis  spring,  kaze  't  ain't  no 
place  fer  me.'  Wid  dat  de  gal  fotch  'er  frock  a 
flirt,  en  went  up  de  paff  like  de  patter-roller  wuz 
atter  her. 

"  She  went  so  quick  en  so  fas'  dat  she  lef  'er 
pail,  en  Brer  Rabbit,  he  tuck  'n  fill  it  full  er  water, 
en  kyar  it  on  up  ter  de  house  whar  Miss  Mead- 
ows en  de  gals  live  at.  Atter  so  long  a  time,  he 
came  on  back  ter  de  spring,  en  lie  sot  dar,  he  did, 
en   study  en   study.      He  pull  his  mustaches  en 


BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP  195 

scratch  his  head,  en  bimeby,  atter  he  bin  settin' 
dar  a  mighty  long"  time,  he  jump  up  en  crack  his 
heels  terge'er,  en  den  he  laugh  tit  ter  kill  hisse'f. 

"  He  'low  :  '  You  want  a  sign,  does  you  ?  Well, 
I  'm  a  gwine  ter  gi'  you  one,  ma'm,  en  ef  dat 
don't  do  you,  I'll  gi'  you  mo'  dan  one.' 

11  De  gal  done  gone,  but  Brer  Rabbit,  he  hang 
'roun'  dar,  he  did,  en  lay  his  plans.  He  laid  um 
so  good  dat  wen  dark  come  he  had  um  all  fixt. 
De  fus'  thing  w'at  he  done,  he  went  down  ter  de 
canebrake  en  dar  he  cut  'im  a  long  reed  like  dem 
w'at  you  see  me  bring  Mars  John  fer  fishin'-pole." 

"  How  did  he  cut  it?  "  the  little  boy  asked. 

"He  gnyaw  it,  honey;  he  des  natchully  gnyaw 
it.  Den  w'en  he  do  dat,  he  tuck  'n  make  a  hole 
in  it  fum  eend  to  eend,  right  thoo  de  j'ints.  W'en 
dark  come,  Brer  Rabbit  tuck  his  cane  en  made 
his  way  ter  de  house  whar  Miss  Meadows  en  de 
gals  stay  at.  He  crope  up,  he  did,  en  lissen,  en 
he  year  um  talkin'  en  laughin'  on  de  inside. 
Seem  like  dey  wuz  done  eatin'  supper  en  settin' 
'roun'  de  fire-place. 

"  Bimeby  de  gal  say:  'W'at  you  reckon?  I 
seed  Brer  Rabbit  down  at  de  spring.' 

"  T'er  gal  say :  '  W'at  he  doin'  down  dar  ? ' 

"  De  gal  say:  '  I  speck  he  wuz  gwine  a-gal- 
lantin'  ;  he  mos'  sholy  did  look  mighty  slick.' 


196  BROTHER   RABBIT'S   COURTSHIP 

"  T'er  gal  say:  '  I  'm  mighty  glad  ter  year  dat, 
kase  de  las'  time  I  seed  'im  hit  look  like  his  brit- 
ches wuz  needin'  patchinV 

"  Dis  kinder  talk  make  Brer  Rabbit  look  kinder 
sollumcolly.  But  de  gal,  she  up  en  'low  :  '  Well, 
he  ain't  look  dat  away  ter-day,  bless  you  !  He 
look  like  he  des  come  outen  a  ban'box.' 

"  Miss  Meadows,  she  hove  a  sigh,  she  did,  en 
say :  '  Fine  er  no  fine,  I  wish  'im  er  some  yuther 
man  er  oman  would  come  en  wash  up  dese  yer 
dishes,  kaze  my  back  is  dat  stiff  twel  I  can't 
skacely  stan'  up  straight.' 

"  Den  dey  all  giggle,  but  de  gal  say :  '  You  all 
shan't  talk  'bout  Brer  Rabbit  behin'  his  back. 
He  done  say  he  gwine  ter  be  my  beau.' 

"  Miss  Meadows,  she  'low :  '  Well,  you  better 
take  'im  en  make  sump'n  er  somebody  outer  'im.' 

"  De  gal  laugh  en  say:  '  Oh,  no!  I  done  tole 
'im  dat  'fo'  I  git  married,  I  got  ter  have  some  sign, 
so  I  '11  know  p'intedly  w'en  de  time  done  come.' 

"  Wen  Brer  Rabbit  yer  dis,  he  got  in  a  big 
hurry.  He  tuck  one  n-nd  er  de  reed  en  stuck  it 
in  de  crack  er  de  chimbley,  en  den  he  run  ter  de 
yuther  eend,  w'ich  it  wuz  luyin'  out  in  de  weeds 
en  bushes.  W'en  he  git  dar,  he  held  it  up  ter 
his  head  en  lissrii,  en  he  kin  year  11111  drs  rz  plain 
ez  ef  dry  wuz  right  at  'im. 


BROTHER   RABBIT'S    COURTSHIP  197 

"  Miss  Meadows  ax  de  gal  w'at  kinder  sign 
she  want,  en  de  gal  she  say  she  don't  keer  w'at 
kinder  one  't  is,  des  so  hit's  a  sign.  'Bout  dat 
time  Brer  Rabbit  put  his  mouf  ter  de  reed,  en 
talk  like  he  got  a  bad  col'.      He  sing  out,  he  did: 

" l  Some  likes  cake,  en  some  likes  pie, 

Some  loves  ter  laugh,  en  some  loves  ter  cry, 
But  de  gal  dat  stays  single  will  die,  will  die  / ' 

"  Miss  Meadows  'low:  'Who  dat  out  dar  ?  ' 
Den  dey  got  a  light  en  hunted  all  'roun'  de  place 
en  und'  de  house,  but  dey  ain't  see  nuthin'  ner 
nobody.  Dey  went  back  en  sot  down,  dey  did, 
but  't  want  long  'fo'  Brer  Rabbit  sing  out: 

"  '  De  drouth  ain't  tvet  en  de  rain  ain't  dry, 
Whar  you  sow  yd  wheat  you  can't  cut  rye, 
But  de  gal  dat  stays  single  will  die,  will  die. ' 

"Miss  Meadows,  en  de  gals  wuz  dat 'stonished 
dat  dey  ain't  know  w'at  ter  do,  en  bimeby  Brer 
Rabbit,  he  sing  out  ag'in  : 

"  '  /  wants  de  gal  dafs  atter  a  sign, 
I  wants  de  gal  en  she  mus'  be  mine  — 
She  'II  see  'er  beau  down  by  de  big  pine' 


198  BROTHER    RABBIT'S    COURTSHIP 

"  En  sho'  nuff,"  Uncle  Remus  continued,  "de 
nex'  mornin'  w'en  de  gal  went  down  by  de  big 
pine,  dar  sot  Brer  Rabbit  dez  ez  natchul  ez  life. 
De  gal,  she  make  out,  she  did,  dat  she  des  come 
down  dar  atter  a  chaw  er  rozzum.  Dey  jawered 
Youn'  a  right  smart,  en  'spute  'long  wid  one  'n'er. 
But  Brer  Rabbit,  he  got  de  gal." 


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